Mental Notes December 2010

WAROONA–By golly does having the hire car make a huge difference when in a country town. Headed up to Perth and the Pt Walter foreshore with Gene, Jacq and Chris for a bit of seagull chasing.

The bowls club went off Friday night. The ‘reef and beef’ bridged the species divide with a good ‘ol crumbing. B-boy got a bit rowdy cheering on granddad to the point where the nine-month-old got some cool death stares.

Someone got down on the rink with the locals and pitched a couple of kittys. It takes a while to get end to end though. Getting ready for the cousins’ pre-Xmas bash on the weekend and maybe a bit of bocce.

WAROONA–Spent a lovely evening with my sister’s family on their farm out on the flatlands. They have an amazing palm-lined oasis with a pool and shady lie-downs. Plus dogs and cats and birds and horses – all of which are new to baby B.

It’s still scorching hot but the cricket, while depressing, is a great diversion from eating eating eating. Not complaining about any of this.

WAROONA–Popped out for a litre of milk this afternoon and realised again the madness of town planning. The footpaths here are all placed to catch the afternoon sun directly. No matter that the opposite side of the road is tree-lined.

A scorching stroll took Bowie and I to the rather cute picnic area by the side of the highway through town. B caught his first alumina train rumbling metres away. I drank a real WA Coffee Chill. Waroona’s homage to Native American culture was notable. We hung out watching road trains and shift workers in their hi-vis jackets heading home.

Nanna and granddad are off to bowls. We can’t go because baby needs to go to bed. Was really looking forward to a sherry.

WAROONA–One of the cars is missing. Might have been because they leave the keys in it. At least the thief closed the garage door.

And I’ve had a Facebook win, using it for actual productivity. The cot arranged by the grandfolk was too small for bubs so I sent a message to FB schoolmates. A cot was offered. Quite amazing.

WAROONA–Day three in my hometown for Xmas and what I’ve unflatteringly called The Pumpkin Planet. AM radio is still damn horrible and the folks watch grisly cop and animal rescue programs on television.

I’ve already taken it upon myself to rearrange the local market’s shelves. There’s a whole lot of watching Bowie polish a whole new floor. And there’s his run-ins with the grandparents’ dog Misty.

Jetlag has entered the little fellow’s lexicon. And it’s taking all of mum and dad’s power not to just hand him over to the family and go hit the stinky local tavern for a large glass of mother’s little helper.

For some reason removing all of the trees along the main street through town has been adopted as modern landscape architecture in these parts. Thus a scorching moonscape, but somewhat safer for P-plate drivers who tend to pick out the only tree in the district to wrap their high-powered car around. I know that because I was one in my youth.

As wealth is measured in the size of one’s 4×4 my parents grace the middle classes as they have two. But we’re not allowed to drive them. Sue and I are 38. Humourous, if not for the fact that no-one walks and the footpaths reflect it. We’ve been here for a week already, right?