Sydney, splints and sea

Well, ocean most probably what with staying at Coogee. And harbour, if that is what you say.

The Noodle and I intrepidly caught the bus from the heart of the nation to that other great city, Sydney. I am frequently astonished at the idea of plonking the national capital down in the middle of some sheep paddocks, but when I visit Sydney (or Melbourne for that matter) I remember why it seemed like such a good idea. Now I have always loved Melbourne, and I must say I am developing a much higher appreciation of Sydney's charms now that I am all surrounded by NSW and so on, but I am heartily pleased that neither of them gets to be the boss of Australia. Canberra's rampant inferiority complex can only be healthy for those who attempt to govern bits of the rest of the country.

The bus was very full of people going to have fun in Sydney. Weeee! And one very rude grumpy man.

We fulfilled our health care responsibilities (plain-ish blue AFOs, everyone, which nicely match the school uniform and no comments on insects from the lad).

We checked into our hotel across the park from Coogee Beach, we read our books, we rested, we repaired to the sands. The sands came back to the hotel with us, and a surprising amount made it all the way back to the ACT as well. We have sand enough for a beach, but no balmy ocean, alas.

I was trying to explain to the Noodle how rich you would have to be to live in Watson's Bay but I don't think he believed me. I am such an exaggerator generally that I think he assumed I was pretty much making it up. But no.

But you can go and enjoy the view for the price of a ferry ticket, so who is complaining, what with the perfect blue sky, the flattish like un-ironed linen sea, the sails, the seaplanes, the sand and the plans for world domination.

Reading: Wolf Hall still. What can I say, it's a big book and people keep making me go to work for 7.5 hours a day when I could be reading novels. It's a Booker Prize winner I really wanted to read, and now that I am reading it I still want to read it. Five stars Booker judges.

The Noodle: I just finished reading him Tom's Midnight Garden, which made him cry. It made me cry too. The husband disgusted with both of us. The Noodle is reading the Glory Garden's series to himself again. It has cricket and it is funny! Well. He is mooting reading The Lord of the Rings next. The husband is disgusted with both of us.