Counting Down

to the September break....we're camping at Fingal, providing it doesn't either burn down in the bushfires or flood and float away in the next three weeks. I seem to have this voodoo effect on the weather every time I cross the border....we camped underwater at Easter. I'm really looking forward to some down time with the boys...they're the perfect age for camping - happy to leave me under my umbrella with a book while they spend hours in wetsuits with their dad, paddling their boards halfway to New Zealand. We start our days early (like pre-5am early) and finish when we like, the boys eat 8 meals a day and I have to make a daily run to the shops because "we're starving" is the Hartwell family camping motto. I have to remember to buy bait "see if they've got maggots, mum" (eugh!!) white zinc and aloe vera for post sun recovery. Finer 50% needs a daily paper to keep him up to date in case the world ends and they forget to notify campers. We'll watch sunrises and sunsets, whale watch and fish, build sandcastles and do yoga on the beach. I'll listen to the trials of Henry VIII on audio book while the boys surf. FF will drink beer and pretend to fish while snoozing on the sand. I'll take photos, the boys will moan and FF will threaten to hide my charger. I'll comb sand out of Sebi's hair and he'll fall asleep before I'm done. We'll count fireflies at night and just hang out together. Bliss.