October 31. Day 304. Strange and foreign customs

It's a small world after all. Strange customs once unique to one small corner of the globe now travel via the world wide spider web and no-one is immune to the venom.

Here, of course, I am talking about Gangnam Style by Psy. As soon as that catchy piece of  Korean Pop blared out of the speakers at the annual Hocus Pocus Halloween Party in Memorial Park at Bulimba and the kids were busting out their horse riding dance moves.

OK, I'm joking (not about the kids all knowing Gangnam Style, that's true). I am referring how mainstream Halloween has become in Australia.

Kids (and here I am talking about children of ALL ages) love an excuse to dress up and if strangers are going to reward you with bags full of lollies for your efforts all the better.

Something that Australian kids once knew of only from US television is now a much anticipated event on the annual calendar.

The biggest gathering in Brisbane today saw kids dancing, apple bobbing, jelly fishing, playing games and sports and of course eating far too much sugar.

The park party was all over before dark giving the chance for kids to head off and trick or treat closer to home. Well, if you've gone to all that trouble dressing up it would be a (fashion) crime to waste it, right?

October 30. Day 303. Baby steps

One of the greatest joys of summer used to be cooling down under the sprinkler. It was such a simple pleasure with all the kids running about like crazed creatures, their laughter echoing through the streets.
On really hot days, the parents would join in and that was extra special.
In recent years, this was an activity that seemed destined to go the way of the dinosaur. While many things we enjoyed as kids (such as the see-saw) have fallen victim to the "fun police", it was drought and water restrictions that looked like they would spell the end of back yard sprinkler splashing.
But the dams are again full, the restrictions have gone and no longer is turning on a tap a neighbourhood crime right up their with barking dogs and fence disputes.
At South Bank this morning the sprinklers were on and a bush stone curlew was taking full advantage its chick sheltering under her wing.
They stayed for ages and then finally bored Mum wandered off the chick following behind letting the world know that he or she was not happy the fun was over.
And speaking of fun being over, today marks the 25th anniversary of the closing of Expo 88 in Brisbane. When the Expo packed up and moved on, the site left behind was redeveloped into South Bank where this photo was taken this morning.
That carnival may be over but South Bank remains as one of Brisbane's best draw cards for both human and feathered visitors.

October 29. Day 302. Every cloud has a silver lining

When it comes to useful websites, the Australian Bureau of Meteorology takes a lot of beating.

In this part of the world as spring turns into summer, many hours can be spent watching the coloured bands representing heavy rains approaching your neck of the woods.

Well, that's one way of doing it. But in my particular corner of planet earth there is another way, a more old-fashioned way. I turn from Windows to windows. I know. How old school.

My back deck is pretty much perfect for a spot of weather watching if the storm is approaching from the south or the west.

And this afternoon, the sky was talking and it was screaming STORM WARNING.

Coloured bands on the radar make interesting viewing for sure but Mother Nature also turns on a pretty spectacular show. I think it's fair to say someone in the heavens is in a pretty dirty mood this afternoon.

October 28. Day 301. Music to my ears

Today I was presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity and I missed my chance.
There I was on a street corner chatting up strange boys, as I do. They were busking outside 7-Eleven which presented me with two choices. I could either have walked right by them and invested my loose change on chocolate or give them my loose change and allow them to invest it in chocolate or beer or whatever.
I gave the money to the lads and in surprise and gratitude they talked.
The trio had been together as a performance group only for a matter of hours (probably right about the time they ran out of chocolate).
They did not yet have a group name. "What should we call ourselves?" they asked.
And there it was. My chance to come up with a band name and quick as a flash I responded "I don't know?" Seriously. That was the best I could come up with. Perhaps if I had eaten the chocolate my brain would have responded faster or perhaps they should just call themselves Busking for Chocolate.
In my mind, whatever the question, the answer is always chocolate.

October 27. Day 300. Think Pink

Sixty kilometres is quite a walk, but it's nothing compared with the journey of fighting cancer.
This weekend more than 1000 people walked 30 kilometres through the streets of Brisbane, camped overnight and then walked 30 kilometres back to raise fund to fight women's cancers.
More than $3.5 million was raised in the inaugural event.
When we hit the Roma Street Parklands this afternoon the event was just winding up and a large crowd of weary walkers and proud family members was starting to head home.
The sea of pink and signs honouring those fighting cancers and remembering those who have lost the battle was incredibly moving.
There were kids hugging their mums and husbands embracing their wives and among in all was Terry.
Even with all that pink about, a man with pink balloon breasts labelled "Save the Boobies" is bound to stand out. Although I'd never met him before and it's not the sort of thing I normally say to strangers I did say "That's a great set of boobs you've got there". He gave me the thumbs up and a big smile.
The boobs may have been fake but the sentiment was very real and Terry and all the others have every right to be tickled pink with their efforts.

October 26. Day 299. You don't have to be crazy - but it helps

Simon lists of his previous injuries as you might a shopping list - wrists, ankles, shoulders. But then he dusts himself off and is back up on the line, his mates egging him on.

The fact that you fall doesn't matter. The fact that you are prepared to get back and give it another go does. Some of the beginners just wobble on a low line. Others twist, turn, jump and lunge in moves that seem to defy not only gravity but, more importantly, logic.

Just another Saturday afternoon in Musgrave Park. The slack lines are strung up between the trees and thrill seekers of all ages are testing out their abilities. 

Everyone get s a go, regardless of his or her skill and the onlookers are equally encouraging.

Simon admits that it's just a bit crazy but there are worse things than hanging out in the park with your mates, right.
And if you are heading for a fall it's good to have your friends around to either a) pick you up or b) laugh at you. That's what friends are for.

October 25. Day 298. Making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end

It's enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
Half way across the Eleanor Schonell Bridge, a single bunch of flowers is tied to the railings.
Yesterday marked four years to the day since a man three days short of his 23rd birthday fell to his death at that spot.
His family have tied a heartfelt note at the spot and as I walked across the bridge this afternoon to check out the wildlife at the University of Queensland, I watched people stop and read.
In part, this is what the family said:
"He made us all laugh and now he made us all cry.
When the tears stop, we'll make jokes about how Whitney will be shaking up heaven, in the same way he lit up our lives.
I hope God has a good sense of humour.
This was a tragedy we never prepared for. Whitney lived without regard for personal safety. He lived for enjoyment. And joy is what he always meant to leave behind.
No question, Whitney got a full life into his short life."
It's moving and chilling. Young men and their bullet proof attitude to life. Young men who do crazy things.
I never knew Whitney or his family but I felt a lump in my throat as I read what they'd written.
To me this verse from Hamlet and today's image sum it up
"I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, thy knotted and combined locks to part and each particular hair to stand an end, like quills upon the fretful porpentine."
RIP Whitney

October 24. Day 296. It's been a bit of a blur

As a self confessed observer of life, I do try to be one on whom nothing is lost. Unfortunately of late a great deal of life's beauty has escaped my attention. Life's been a bit of a blur (*in more ways than one to be honest). And let me tell you, whoever said the devil was in the detail clearly didn't have failing eye sight. The great beauty can be in the same place.
For some time now I have noticed that I can see better (but not that well) without my incredibly expensive graduated bifocal lenses on when doing close work.
So I was regularly taking them off especially when reading anything on the phone or laptop (so most of the time really).
As a result, I found I was losing the glasses all the time and finding your glasses can be difficult when you can't see too well without your glasses ...
But the glasses were a) not that old and as previously stated b) incredibly expensive so I persevered.
But I can see clearly now with a new prescription now on my face. Will you look at the tiny little antennae on the wasps who have decided to move in near the pool? Who would have thought? (probably anyone with half decent eye sight).
Helen Keller once said "“The only thing worse than being blind is having sight and no vision.”  I hope now to have both as well as enough common sense to act faster next time to clarity fades.

October 23. Day 296. Reading between the lines

Someone needs to address those official forms which ask you to nominate languages spoken at home. Nowhere is the ability to tick the box that corresponds to the language used most often in our home: Whinge.
The official dialogue I am most proficient in right now is the Teen Whinge characterised by grunts, mumbles and profanity.
As such when it was announced that the novel set for English "totally sucked" I took on the information with not only a grain of salt but with the whole salt mine.
So to prove him wrong I decided to read the book and guess what? It totally sucked.
Really, I should not have been surprised. I'm pretty sure there is a whole industry in writing "important", "worthy" and intellectually boring books that are designed to be analysed and not enjoyed.
It is almost as though being a good read automatically disqualifies a book for reading in school (and also win an award where lack of popularity seems to be a criteria, especially in reading material for young people).
These books are designed to be pulled apart and broken down in essays that involve words such as analyse, compare and contrast.
They are not designed to be loved and shared. The don't become dog-eared through repeated reading. Corners are turned down to mark pages with "important" quotes that will make awesome supporting evidence in the persuasive essay. There two books that I can quote large chunks from.
The first is I Heard the Owl Call my Name. Year 10 English. "Past the village flowed the river, like time, like life itself, waiting for the swimmer to come again on his way to the climax of his adventurous life, and to the end for which he had been made. Wa Laum. That is all."
I can not remember anything of the content of Margaret Craven's book but that illustrated something "important" that I needed to learn by rote for an essay. Yep, that's how to foster a love of reading (not).
The other book is Hairy  Maclary from Donaldson's Dairy.
"Out of the gate and off for a walk went Hairy Maclary from Donaldson's Dairy". That I know from reading over and over again. My son loved that book and it had a rhythm and pace that demanded to be read out loud. Repeatedly. It was a book that you could get into.
It it my belief that this is what this artwork I came across in the Visual Design  Studios at work today is about. But it may not be and I don't care because I reckon that art like books really should be about enjoyment not analysis. Others can write an essay and if I choose to take notice of them at all it will be with more than a grain of salt.

October 22. Day 295. In full bloom

There's a saying in this part of the world.
"When the jacarandas start to flower, it's too late to start studying for exams."
Squawk about it all you like, but it's pretty true. The city is awash with purple blooms and for university students it's exam season. For university lecturers like myself it's a two edged sword. It means marking season is in full bloom in all its hideous intensity.
But on the flip side it means the end of the academic calendar is approaching. Now that's something to crow about (yes, I know this is a noisy miner but, well, it's a bird).

October 21. Day 294. Putting my feet up

People are endlessly fascinating, they really are. I get great joy out of watching strangers go about their daily business (and if I'm honest listening to the snippets of conversation they choose to have at volume in public places).

You might not get the whole story but that's okay. Making up a good story can be far more interesting than the facts.

Like these two women taking half a body for a walk through the Queen Street Mall this afternoon. The facts are probably very mundane but the possibilities are endless. 

But it's not only strangers that can amaze with their odd and unpredictable behaviour.

Now, I would have thought I knew the Drama Teen better than anyone. I am, after all, his mother.

But even he can surprise me, at times.

Like this afternoon. A person who looked like the boy volunteered, yes volunteered, to take the dog for a walk. And then he did it and asked nothing in return. I don't know that person but I like him. And while the two of them went about their business, I got to put my feet up. Yep, people are endlessly fascinating, even one's nearest and dearest.

October 20. Day 293. Cracking under pressure

I could have cracked - but I didn't.
I'm a stubborn little sh** when I want to be. In fact the only reason I have a Masters Degree is that a "friend" said I'd never do it. It was the year my father died. It was the year I was diagnosed as having a chronic illness. I had a full-time job and a preschooler but tell me I can't do something and I will set out to prove you wrong.
So I wasn't going to let the small M  beat me - not on day one of my mission to at least try to use the manual function on my camera. Not only that. I decided to test my "skills" in the middle of the day in the unforgiving bright light of the riverbank at West End.
I won't say I am delighted by the results but as the day went on I felt I was growing in my ability to at least think it through. And anyway, tomorrow is another day.

October 19. Day 292. Going off auto pilot

I spend much of my life on auto, and none more so than when it comes to photography.
I reason that if cameras were meant to be used on Manual there wouldn't be 13 automatic modes. That's right Automatic modes outnumber Manual modes 13 to one, that must be telling you something. But the real problem with Manual mode is that it would require reading the manual and that's something I will never do.
Besides which reading about it become an exercise in tedium with f stops, apertures, ISOs, shutter speeds etc all swimming in my head in a big soup of confusing numbers and concepts.
Still, I would like to be able to at least pretend I wasn't totally out of my depth of field.
So after months of procrastinating, today I actually took part in a four hour photography workshop and today's image was taken at the conclusion of the course.
My head is still swimming but at least I think some of the concepts have stuck and I didn't have to read anything.
And I have made a deal with myself. Dial M on Manual perhaps not always but at least mostly.
Time will tell if it makes a difference.

October 18. Day 291. Raindrops keep falling on my head

There is nothing quite like a Queensland thunder storm.
Nature's light and sound show beats anything man can put together (and that's quite a concession from a theatre tragic).
Today's was quite moderate in the scheme of things but boy did we need the rain. The whole world feels cleaner and fresher after the afternoon drenching.
Today's storm was just about perfectly timed from my point of view.
Dry when I was running around like a headless chook in the morning with the added bonus of rain on the iron roof during the afternoon nap. Thank you weather gods.
And to top it off the rain finished when there was still enough light to go out the back and capture this raindrop.

October 17. Day 290. Food fight

People end up fighting over the stupidest things. Take religion for example. Fighting to the death over whose greater power is the most loving and compassionate makes absolutely no sense at all and yet religious war and prosecution are as old as time itself.
But food - that's worth fighting for.
In a dog-eat-dog (or in this case a duck-eat-duck) world feuding over your share of the fodder makes perfect sense.
And all's fair in love and food fights. I saw it at the duck pond where, this afternoon, families were again gathered with loaves of bread in hand to feed the ducks.
There should have been plenty to go around had everyone been prepared to wait their turn.
But as any large family will tell you at dinner time, it doesn't work like that.
Get in first or miss out. Whatever it takes.
And there was no playing the ball not the man. No way. As this photo shows anything goes.
Go for the throat.

October 16. Day 289. In a bit of a flap

Funny how the smallest thing can get you in a bit of a flap and from there the ripple effect takes over.
You (well obviously here I am talking me) lose your (my) keys. That makes you late. That makes you hit peak hour traffic. That makes you later. So you are in a bigger flap and you lose your keys again. That sort of thing. This didn't happen to me today but it has far too often and that's what this seagull at South Bank this morning had me thinking.
I try to tell myself not to sweat the small stuff but I'm obviously not listening. I flap around like a headless chook only serving to make it a whole lot worse than whatever it was that set it off in the first place.
I need to just try to float it out or keep the desperate paddling for under the surface. This sort of carrying on does no-one any good.

October 15. Day 288. Super Dog

 I am fully aware that today's image is
1) wrong in every way and
2) proof that I have become the kind of pet owner I despise.
Not only did Rumple have his regular stylist appointment today (where regular is defined as more often than mine) but then when he got home I dressed him in his new Super Dog outfit for the mandatory post stylist pic.
Yes that is tragic.
But in my defence - no actually there is nothing I can say in my defence. It is what it is.
At least my fur friend is good natured enough to indulge me and play along.
And that's why dogs are (wo)man's best friend. Their love is unconditional and they quickly forgive even if you treat them like a cross between a baby and a doll.
A small  Schmackos bribe helps seal the deal.

October 14. Day 287. Big boys toys

The things we do for our kids.
For Tommy it's remote control cars. The father of three was out late this afternoon after the vehicles had cleared from an office car park racing a very speedy remote control car.
He proudly told me the car was one of a number he had for the kids, one capable of more than 200 kilometres an hour over short distances.
Tommy and the kids like the empty car park. He says he often brings them down there to ride their scooters, skateboards and bikes.
It gets them all out and away from computers and the TV, he reasoned. I know this is true because I've seen them all there before.
But I couldn't help but notice that something was missing this afternoon - the kids.
It looked suspiciously like just Tommy and the toy. It's all right Tommy, I won't tell if you don't.
Growing older is mandatory. Growing up, not so much.
And as a big boy's toy goes, a remote control car capable of travelling more than 200 kilometres an hour is right in the ball park.

October 13. Day 286. Strange customs

During the high school years at All Hallows' one building was a mystery, strictly off limits, out of bounds.
This, of course, made it immensely interesting. Forbidden fruit and all that.
The old convent was where secret Nun's business happened and we mere students were to know none of it.
I am sure whatever happened behind those imposing doors was distinctly uninteresting but the interest lay in the not knowing.
So when I saw the Mercy Centre (as it is now known) on the list of buildings taking part in Open House Brisbane 2013 I decided I had to go.
Unfortunately it will remain a mystery as only two rooms on the ground floor were open to the public. Poo, bum, wee.
But I did find the building is routinely open to visitors on Tuesdays and Wednesdays so all is not lost.
All was not lost today either. As we had made the effort to join the thousands of families traipsing around the city to see behind doors normally closed to the public it would have been churlish to let one small disappointment get in the way of a good time on a beautiful Sunday.
So off we hiked to the Customs House to peek inside the stately rooms and the far less stately cellars where the tariffs from passing vessels would have been collected in bygone days.
And then there was lunch and a mocktail on the terrace overlooking the river. Very nice too. I may be none the wiser as to the strange customs of the convent but those of Customs House have now been unlocked.

October 12. Day 285. Starry, starry night

Grade 10B. All Hallows' 1980. Classroom at the back of the main building overlooking Kemp Place and the Story Bridge.
I'm pretty sure my love of that bridge and my hate of the smell of hops from the brewery across the road were formed in that classroom that year.
On stinking hot Queensland days in non-air conditioned rooms shared with about 30 other sweaty 15-year-olds, staring out the window and dreaming was the only viable escape.
Back in those days there were no lights in the bridge but in recent times it has become as pretty as a picture at night.
Indeed, one of the only original artworks to grace the walls of my home is called Story Bridge in Aqua by Brisbane artist Starr (which looks not unlike Story Bridge in Aqua and Lime as pictured above).
I'm sure I read somewhere that Starr went to All Hallows' for a time but it could have been something I made up staring out the window and dreaming. A girl's got to dream after all and with nothing else on my camera card today, it seemed as good a place as any to head with the tripod for a night shot.

October 11. Day 284. Legless

Friday night. The traditional night to get legless.
This is as close as I got - photographing the limb-lacking gecko on a light box display outside Brisbane State High School. I was out on a big Friday night on the town - where big night is defined as taking a walk. With my Mum. And my dog. Oh yes, I am the last of the big party animals.
I'm too old for that. Fact is the idea of a Saturday morning with nausea and vomiting, a mouth like the bottom of a cockie cage, pounding head and alcohol-induced anxiety holds no attraction for me at all. Plus I have other ways to fill up my body with empty calories and empty my wallet of any spare cash.
It's not that I am a wowser or anti-alcohol - I'm not - I enjoy a cocktail or glass of wine over dinner with friends as much as the next person. But in my daily life, it's the exception rather than the rule.
What concerns me is that as a society we seem to believe that excess consumption of alcohol is synonymous with a celebration or a good time.
Why is it that breakfast TV announcers start interviews with the latest premiership/academy award/Nobel prize winner they always seem to ask how they pulled up after the big night? Why? Because as a society we seem to think the only way to mark our greatest of days by drinking so much we can't remember them. Gee, that makes sense.
So if that makes me a wowser, I'm okay with that. 
I may be going out on a limb here but I reckon not feeling shit on a Saturday morning is an idea that should have legs (but probably won't).

October 10. Day 283. Killing them with kindness

Can you not read the signs? Seriously
Do people honestly think the "Don't feed the wildlife" signs were put there by the fun police just because they are a bunch of killjoys out to ruin it for everyone?
Yep, like everyone else we fed the ducks when we were kids and it was awesome fun.
But there were no signs and I'm pretty sure we didn't know how bad it was for them and neither did our parents.
But the signs around the reserve near Shaw Park make it pretty clear. Feeding the ducks is very bad for them.
And yet this afternoon, and probably every afternoon, there were people feeding the ducks, pretty much right in front of the signs. The ducks of course didn't seem to mind a bit. After all they probably don't know any better. Or perhaps they do and eat it anyway in much the same way as I eat things I know are bad for me. But as a species higher up the food chain that should know better we have a duty to do the right thing. Enjoy the wildlife by all means but just duck off and don't feed them. When it comes to duck fodder there are plenty of options that are a better thing than sliced bread.

October 9. Day 282. Motherly love

I tell you, you'd have to love them or you would kill them.
Here I am thinking specifically about my furry baby Rumple and the small matter of the ink stain on the carpet today because he decided that would be an awesome place to chew a pen to death.
But,of course, it applies even more so to the human kids.
You forgive your nearest and dearest no matter what. You'd call the police if the neighbours kept you up night after night screaming. If a friend wanted to be picked up at all hours, you'd give them the number of a taxi company. The lines of credit in the bank of parental finance remain open. The arms remain open. The love is unconditional even when you want to kill them.
I reckon this photo of Mum and chick on the pond at South Bank this morning captures it perfectly.
The little one was whinging non stop but the mum was still there in a touching display of affection.
Try as you might, a baby turns the hardest of hearts to jelly.

October 8. Day 281. Water torture

 Holidays really suck (when they are over). Back to work today and it was a bit of a struggle. To be fair, work was just fine,enjoyable even, but given the choice between a day on the beach and a day in the classroom I'm afraid I'll take the beach.
But the show must go on and to ease the pain I've decided to start the search for a holiday home for the Christmas holidays.
And until then it I figure I should seek out any relaxing body of water and this afternoon a walk through the Roma Street Parklands was the best option.
Rumple was happy to accompany me but I rather suspect he, too, would have rather been running along the beach. Patience fur friend, patience.

October 7. Day 280. Nude dudes

My memory of what we were taught in Social Studies was that human survival required food, CLOTHING and shelter. Yes clothing people.

It protects against the elements.

I have nothing against the human body. I am not a prude but seriously if you have big breasts, a bra would be the minimum clothing requirement for a game of beach volleyball in my humble opinion, just saying. 

My fear of skin cancer alone would be enough to make me keep my kit on while going for a swim but if I was going to go au natural I can see the attraction of Alexandria Bay in the Noosa National Park.

It's stunningly beautiful and quite a trek to get there so it's not as if you are likely to terrify stray small children with your wobbly bare bits.

At least some of them had the good sense to wear a hat (although some of those delicate parts looked like they could have done with a bit of protection).

The walk through the national park was just one of the things on the agenda to make the most of our last day of holidays.

I was up before dawn and on the beach to capture the sunrise and to give the fur friend a last romp in the sand before heading back to reality.

I was also treated to a whale frolicking off the coast and as an added bonus a flock of black cockatoos decided to stop for breakfast on the foreshore as I walked by. Jolly nice of them.

It is very sad that the holiday had to come to an end but I am pretty sure we will be back.

I suppose if I was to decide to go starkers it would make packing easier.Fortunately for the rest of you, it's not going to happen.

October 6. Day 279. Mother knows best

If I was less mature I'd say "I told you so". But of course I'd never do that (well not out loud, anyway). It is no secret that the boy was a reluctant starter on this holiday business. Not that you would have known it today.We all went to the beach, played in the ocean, sat in the park and checked out the action in the skate bowl, browsed the Sunday beach markets and generally had a really lovely day.Three generations and the puppy just chilling at the beach. It doesn't get better than that. So much so that the teen announced he'd like to come back here every holiday.Okay, I'm not very mature. I told you so. Occasionally mother does know best.

  

October 5. Day 278. Crabs!

I think I must be adopted. My mother and I can not be related. Our biorhythms are not in sync. At all. This morning, I was up as normal and down the beach not that long after Sunrise.
I had crabs in my sight while Mum was still snoring.
By the time Mum emerged from the bedroom just after 11am I was pretty much ready for my afternoon nap.
Mum NEVER has an afternoon nap. That's the proof right there. It's hard to believe anyone with any of the same DNA as myself isn't a nap-a-holic. Naps are my crutch.
By late afternoon we both managed to be awake at the same time and went for a walk in the Noosa National Park. Very nice it was too.
I was especially grateful to be able to walk in the bush with my mum given how ill she was this time last week, in hospital, on a drip with acute renal failure.
It's such a relief to have her back to her normal self. Given what she's been through, I suppose I can forgive her a little lie in.

October 4. Day 277. You're dumped!

Everyone remembers the first time. You think you are going to die. You don't know which way is up. Every orifice is filled water.You can't breathe. Much as I love the ocean I know that it is a powerful beast that must be treated with respect. Get dumped and you'll know about it.
This is something my fearless fur friend is discovering this week.
The twice daily walks along the beach have been a real highlight of this holiday for Rumple and I. We love them. This morning there had been a noticeable change. It was cooler and the wind had really picked up.The surf was rougher and a little unpredictable.
So it was that Rumple found himself caught between the sand dune carved out at the creek mouth and the incoming tide.
He was never in any danger but it was enough to get his little heart started. I'm suspecting he'll be a little more cautious in future

October 3. Day 276. Retirement plan

I want to retire to the beach. I love it. We all love it

There is one small technical problem. Actually it's more a large financial problem. Unless I have a previously unknown rich relative who has named me in the will, coming up with the $$$$ may be an issue.
So I have a cunning plan and it involves my beach-loving fur friend. Wherever we go he makes friends. People want to play with him. They want to pat him. They want a photo with him. Just a small contribution from each and there's the beach house. I'm pretty sure Rumple wouldn't mind. Look at the joy of both Rumps and the two boys he found to play chase with on the beach this afternoon. Smiles all round. Time to earn your keep young pup and keep your mother in the manner in which she would like to become accustomed.

October 2. Day 275. Game changer

In a weird way, my fur friend Rumple changed everything.
Some things I had predicted. Others not in a million years.
It is Rumple's "fault" we are spending this week at Castaways Beach on the Sunshine Coast.
Although I lived and worked at the Sunshine Coast for years, in recent years I have been a Gold Coast girl.
What's more, even when the Sunshine Coast was the destination of choice it was never anywhere quite as quiet and isolated as Castaways between Peregian and Sunshine Beach.
But desperate times call for desperate measures, and let's be honest there just were not many houses available at the last minute that ticked all the boxes AND allowed dogs.
In the end there was but one available property that was suitable so we took it.
And it's perfect.
The home as ocean views and overlooks the national park and the dog beach extends for kilometres.
Without the push factor of a puppy we would never have found this place.
This morning's walk along the beach took Rumple and I to a section south of Sunrise Beach where a fresh water stream from the national park meets the ocean. It is spectacular.
I have little doubt we'll be back.