February 11. Day 41. Flighty

It is back to Brisbane day, a flying visit made necessary by my total failure to plan.
My excitement over no longer being tied to the high season rates charged in school holidays, I kind of forgot that there are commitments that don't involve school.
I refuse to let the theatre commitments of both myself and Dram Teen in Brisbane interfere with my beach commitments.
It just means I have to squeeze two beach walks and a nap in before hitting the road in the late afternoon.
I can do that.
A slightly earlier start on walk one also paid dividends.
My mate the brahminy kite was back and in a flighty mood and the dogs will take a walk just about any time I grab the lead. They are most obliging like that.

February 10. Day 41. Don't be a galah

Rain, rain go away. Come again another day. By another day, naturally I mean a day when I am not at the beach. This morning’s walk was cut short because the approaching rain approached far quicker than I had expected. But I refused to be deterred. While the others decided to put a wet weather plan in action and head to the cinemas, I volunteered to be the designated dog minder. Sure I love the flicks as much as anyone but if the choice is a dark cinema or a walk on a stormy beach with the dogs (after a nap), I’ll pass on the popcorn. It is a condition of the beach house rental that the dogs are not left at the property alone. I get that many people would see this as a fine reason not to bring the dogs in the first place. If you add the premium you end up paying for prime dog friendly holiday accommodation, I understand that many would roll their eyes and utter the words “boarding kennels”. To each his own but the true joy of a beach holiday is the walks on the beach with the dogs (and the naps). I won’t trade that, not for anything. Besides, if I was in the cinema I would have missed the rose breasted cockatoos coming in to feed on the trees at the back of the dunes. You’d be a galah to pass up that opportunity.

February 9. Day 40. High flyers

 

In the vast slogan T Shirt collection owned by Drama Teen, there’s one I really like. It reads: Unless your name is Google, stop acting like you know everything. News Flash. Even if your name IS Google, you still don’t know everything. 

This is a lesson I have to battle incredibly hard to get through to the journalists of the future that I teach. Journalists are in the business of presenting news which is, by definition, new. In other words, if it’s already on Google, it’s not news. 

This means using your eyes, your ears and most importantly your power of speech.   

Talk to people. 

They tell you things. 

Some of it will be new. 

So it was on the beach yesterday. 

I was taking photos of a brahminy kite at the back of the dunes. A woman stopped and commented that she saw that bird there most days. 

It was young and unafraid, she said. 

Then she went on to tell me about the rare albino turtle hatchling they’d found on the beach just near where we were. 

She even showed me pics on her iPhone. 

This morning I read about the same turtle on the ABC News website. 

Talking to people told me something Google didn’t yet know. And what’s more, my new friend was right about the kite. 

This morning it was back, just like she said it would be. 

It was there this afternoon too but I was more interested in the kite surfers reaching extraordinary heights in the strong winds and the dogs reaching heights in the chase for the ball. 

Try finding that joy on Google.

February 8. Day 39. Feeling crabby

Why exactly are we so attracted to the things that are bad for us? For me it's carbs. I know I shouldn't but I've never met a carb I didn't like. I probably should eat a lettuce leaf but frankly that sucks and knowing my luck I'd get one of the ones with salmonella doing the rounds. So it is with the dogs. There were balls to chase. They had each other and a beach full of other dogs to tumble with and what did they go for? A crab. We pulled them off. We steered them up the beach and Winkle led the charge back to take the crab on despite the pincers clearly saying backing off was the way to go. Eventually the crab escaped into a hole and the dogs charged up the beach to find a dead fish....







                                    
                                                

February 7. Day 38. Play time

I am sure there are people in theatre circles who assume I'm a single mum. For about 15 years my Plus One at venues around town has always been my son and never my husband. The reason? I prefer a theatre date who is awake. No matter how loud, how dynamic, how captivating, Charles has napped his way through. The only plays he chooses are at the bridge table. So when he suggests we all go to a One Act Play production a colleague is involved with we 1) assume we must have heard something wrong and 2) agree. So it was that this afternoon the family headed to Wurtulla for Caloundra Chorale's production Eat, Play, Love. While I don't think Charles will be signing up for a season ticket to any theatre company any time soon he did do better than I would at a bridge tournament so I guess that's something. So we may not agree on the question of the stage or the card table but there is something we can all agree on. For relaxation, taking the dogs to the beach is hard to beat. The dogs certainly agree on that point too.

February 6. Day 37. Birth order

It’s an accident of birth order. In my opinion where you come in the family determines a whole lot. 

My older sister, the first born, was the boss. What she said went and we all fell into line. Even my parents seemed to bend to her will. 

I say this with absolutely no bitterness. 

It was just the way it was. Some times it still is. For all organisations to succeed, everyone needs to have defined roles. That was hers.  As the oldest, she was born to it. 

So it is with Rumple. 

He’s the first born of ny fur babies so his word goes. As I see it, the mark of a good leader is to only assert your authority where it is needed. That’s Rumple. 

Most of the time, Winkle is the one calling the shots. 

She jumps on him and steals his things and he just takes it. But when it really matters to him he puts his paw down and will not bend until everyone follows. 

So it was today. 

It was windy and unforgiving and the beach seemed like a bad idea. 

We’ll take the path, I thought. Rumple was having none of it. We walked from the unit the short distance to where the track to the beach and the dune path intersected. 

Winkle, Drama Teen and I turned away from the beach track. Rumple stopped and staged a sit down strike. I pulled him up. 

He turned his body to the beach. 

The oldest fur child had decided we were going to the beach. 

We all fell into line. 

He was right. 

After a bit a cold and wet Winkle did want to get picked up for a cuddle but her role as the baby of the family gives her that right and Drama Teen was happy to oblige. 

And as the second born and therefore the peacemaker my job was to ensure it all went smoothly. It did. I was born to it.

February 5. Day 36. Taking the high road

While swimming needs perfect beach weather, a walk on the beach with the dogs is a delight in most conditions. Today was one of those rare days where I thought the beach was off the table.  A human can dress to protect against the wind but protecting a small fur friend from a sand blast at face level is far more difficult. So we bypassed the beach and took the bike path along the top of the dunes. Well, that was my plan. The dogs had other ideas. When the path took us close to the beach, the dogs were quite insistent that we were hitting the sand. The return journey on the deserted beach was along the hard sand of low tide. Apparently my concerns were unfounded.