Okay, this is quite the belated blog entry, please forgive my tardiness and I will spare you the inane excuses.
It was with heavy hearts that we packed our things and said our hospital goodbyes, selling all that wouldn’t fit into our packs to fly back across the Tasman Sea. Lucy decided that cutting her first tooth was best done eleven kilometres above the surface of the earth. But in between the high altitude dramas she made it her mission to win over the airline staff with cheeky grins and complex gesturing.
Stepping out of the Brisbane international terminal, heavy laden with backpacks and babies, we were struck by our sudden lack of samurai swords. This was perhaps because we were unaware that we would need them to slice our way through the oppressive south-east Queensland humidity. So unarmed, or at least less than equipped for the climatic contrast, we arrived in West End with soggy hugs and big smiles, noticing over the best coffee in the country that Lucy was sweating for the first time. Not quite the ‘pushing-out-your-first-tooth’ milestone but a milestone none the less. This is her taking respite in the sink...
Ever changing Brisvagus, with it's flashing lights and summertime promises was as great as we’ve come to expect it to be, and we enjoyed good times with dear friends sorely missed. I was particularly impressed by a new medieval costume outlet that had opened up on Boundary St in our absence: it boldly offered punters both formal and casual options from the dark ages. Intrigued as I was to discover more about the casual options that a feudal society might offer a 21st century gent like myself I didn’t care enough to actually pay them a visit but it’s on my to-do list for next time, as well as finding a pair of thongs that can withstand the blistering pavement of the inner city. But as the sunny state continued to pour out an unreasonable amount of sunshine on our browning shoulders, our hearts soon turned to the great south and all that we had been missing.
I was lucky enough to sit next to Margaret on the plane, a passionate South Australian grandmother whose brother had only the week before won $734,000 in Oz Lotto. They were going to spend up big by driving to Port Lincoln for the weekend. As I pondered her ambitious plans the feeble orange lights of the outer suburbs began crawling across our black windows.
‘Now I’ve been all over this great land, to Sydney and Brisbane, Perth and Melbourne, and all these places are nice with their Harbour Bridges, their pristine beaches, their fancy new Ferris wheels and what-have-you, but quite frankly I wouldn't thank you for it,’ Margaret exclaimed, ‘there’s something about Adelaide... it’s just so…’
‘Flat?’ I offered.
‘Exactly!’ She replied, ‘Who’d want to live anywhere else?’
‘You’d have to be an idiot’ I added, as we both stared stupidly out of the window in reckless admiration as only South Australians can do. We were home.
Here's our cheeky little tiger back in the town of her birth.
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It was with heavy hearts that we packed our things and said our hospital goodbyes, selling all that wouldn’t fit into our packs to fly back across the Tasman Sea. Lucy decided that cutting her first tooth was best done eleven kilometres above the surface of the earth. But in between the high altitude dramas she made it her mission to win over the airline staff with cheeky grins and complex gesturing.
Stepping out of the Brisbane international terminal, heavy laden with backpacks and babies, we were struck by our sudden lack of samurai swords. This was perhaps because we were unaware that we would need them to slice our way through the oppressive south-east Queensland humidity. So unarmed, or at least less than equipped for the climatic contrast, we arrived in West End with soggy hugs and big smiles, noticing over the best coffee in the country that Lucy was sweating for the first time. Not quite the ‘pushing-out-your-first-tooth’ milestone but a milestone none the less. This is her taking respite in the sink...
Ever changing Brisvagus, with it's flashing lights and summertime promises was as great as we’ve come to expect it to be, and we enjoyed good times with dear friends sorely missed. I was particularly impressed by a new medieval costume outlet that had opened up on Boundary St in our absence: it boldly offered punters both formal and casual options from the dark ages. Intrigued as I was to discover more about the casual options that a feudal society might offer a 21st century gent like myself I didn’t care enough to actually pay them a visit but it’s on my to-do list for next time, as well as finding a pair of thongs that can withstand the blistering pavement of the inner city. But as the sunny state continued to pour out an unreasonable amount of sunshine on our browning shoulders, our hearts soon turned to the great south and all that we had been missing.I was lucky enough to sit next to Margaret on the plane, a passionate South Australian grandmother whose brother had only the week before won $734,000 in Oz Lotto. They were going to spend up big by driving to Port Lincoln for the weekend. As I pondered her ambitious plans the feeble orange lights of the outer suburbs began crawling across our black windows.
‘Now I’ve been all over this great land, to Sydney and Brisbane, Perth and Melbourne, and all these places are nice with their Harbour Bridges, their pristine beaches, their fancy new Ferris wheels and what-have-you, but quite frankly I wouldn't thank you for it,’ Margaret exclaimed, ‘there’s something about Adelaide... it’s just so…’
‘Flat?’ I offered.
‘Exactly!’ She replied, ‘Who’d want to live anywhere else?’
‘You’d have to be an idiot’ I added, as we both stared stupidly out of the window in reckless admiration as only South Australians can do. We were home.
Here's our cheeky little tiger back in the town of her birth.Much love and deep peace to you in your corner of this great planet,
Tim, Liv + Lucy
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