Waterworld

I like to refer to the Central Coast as the western suburbs by the sea. That's where we went for the weekend, with Andrew's parents.

No trailer park for us, however. We stayed in a huge, ridiculously luxurious apartment in one of those strange residential resorts, with amazing views and acres of stone floors. The kids were in heaven, what with swimming pools, tennis court, squash court, etc. I was in heaven doing NOTHING, extended bouts of nothing interspersed with a bit more nothing for good measure.

And Phoebe went horse-riding on Saturday morning and could barely contain herself. The poor bemused teenager who was leading her around endured a full half hour of Muppet monologue - about horses, I might add; mostly about Black Beauty and the terribly sad fact of Ginger's death, etc, etc, etc.

But suddenly it is Monday again, deadlines have got alarmingly close (it's like playing What's the Time, Mr Wolf, they creep up when you have your back turned), and juggling of children and schools and jobs and transport is taking up every waking moment. Sigh.

PS There are photos but Blogger was being uncooperative last night when I tried to upload.