I am back to more or less fully functioning normality after a week of beach camping with the tribe of three at Fingal Head, which I can honestly say was absolutely brilliant, dust storms and 35 knot winds aside. My idea of the perfect holiday is a large bed in a 5 star resort, accompanied by a pile of books and room service, but as this is never going to be the choice of the caveman crew, Fingal Head is probably the next best thing, as far as peace and quiet goes. The beach is beyond beautiful, which totally works for the Mad Camerawoman part of my personality, and comes complete with enough surf to satisfy the macho factor of the tribe of three.
The whole camping issue is up for debate....I spent a week frantically sweeping sand out of the tent, only to have it tracked back in by the tribe at every opportunity.
I did manage to talk finer 50% into purchasing a double camp bed, as I have never been a big fan of sleeping on the floor. We decided to dispense with the blow up mattress part, and used a double foam mattress on the bed frame, which worked OK until anyone tried to sleep on it, as the mattress tended to sink between the supports, making for a kidney puncturing nights rest and earning it the nickname "festerbed" after Uncle Fester's bed of nails.
We also had the preliminary trials of the Australian Teenage Snoring Olympics, featuring #1 son and best mate Matt, who managed to exhale Sebi out of the sleeping hutch in the middle of the night, making for three's a crowd in the Festerbed. On the upside, there was plenty of time to sit on the beach and read numerous books while the tribe performed bizarre rituals with dead fish in the pursuit of worms. Don't ask, I didn't get it then and I still don't get it now. The most bizzarre aspect of the whole week was the gathering of the clans in the laundry. At any given time, you were guaranteed to encounter half a dozen large teenage specimens lurking amongst the cold power and clothes pegs. I was convinced that they were all involved in manufacturing illegal substances from fabric softener until FF pointed out that they were all camping in unpowered sites and had to spend large amounts of time communing with the clothes drier in order to access power points to recharge their mobile phones. The fact that they spent most of their battery power texting each other from across the room never seemed to occur to them. Sad, really.
Holidays aside, things at Planet Hartwell are pretty much under control....Kit has managed to snag himself a job trial at the Sunday Markets next week, helping Phil who runs the popcorn stand. I say trial, because it involves starting at 7am, which will be a trial in itself as far as Lazarus the Teenage Walking Dead is concerned. However, we shall wait and see. I also managed to finish Sebi's quilt, which was a minor miracle, as I was ready to take a chainsaw to the Janome by the end of it. I have recovered enough to run up a pillow case to match, before girding my loins and starting a quilt for Kit.
I have also discovered the ultimate in TV viewing coutesy of the Lifestyle Channel....The Supersizers.
The series involves Giles Coran (food critic) and Sue Perkins (broadcaster) living a week in various time periods. They dress the part, learn the culture and most importantly, they eat the diet of the day. As far as cooking programs go, it makes for brilliant comedy and is high on my list of DVD series I hope to own before I die.