Where have you been?

Just before I start I would like to point out that if you haven’t visited this blog for a while (where the chuff have you been?) you might want to find the last story you read and start from there. I don’t want to teach you how to suck eggs (mainly because I don’t know how to do it myself and would therefore be a lousy teacher*) but the reason I say that you should start from the back and work forward is just because I like to develop a joke and continue the theme into the next message (Okay, I like to use exactly the same joke in the next message but word it slightly differently) and if you just read from the most recent story and head back (chronologically) then that just isn’t going to work. I’m only thinking of you.
Some of the clever, technically gifted, and masochistic of you have the blog on RSS (repeat story signal) which tells you when a new (i.e. re-cycled blog is available to read/ignore). But if you are coming back after a long absence please do as I suggest and find the last story you read and start from there. If however the story was ‘I felt the earth move under my feet’ from February 2008, then you might want to order in a take away and a bottle of red because you’ve got some catching up to do. If, however, you are joining us for the first time (run away now whilst you still can) maybe I should just do a quick re-cap of the story so far.
It goes a bit like this... the decision is made, after considerable consideration and research, to move to the land where there are dangerous snakes, sea creatures, creepy crawlies and trees - hell; even the camp beds will try and maim you in oz. But this is also the place where the sun is often out, narrow pot-hole ridden roads are banned, and (so I’m told) attractive women grow on trees (actually, they are probably the dangerous trees I mentioned earlier). We duly packed up, said an emotional farewell to the old country, and flung ourselves into our new life with a confidence the belied the enormity of the move. And it has continued like that, we’ve never doubted that it was the right thing to do - at exactly the right time, although not everything as run smoothly. So, despite having a great time on my UK trip, there were never any qualms about coming back to the antipodes. My money is on Wendy feeling exactly the same after her trip in September (although, with my gambling record...). And so, to end the re-cap Harold wasn’t really dead after all... he had in fact suffered amnesia and joined the Salvos (which is what the Salvation Army call themselves over here, as I told you everyone has to have a nickname – and it usually ends in o)
Now on with the blog. Wendy enjoyed her trip to Sydney to a tax conference, although whether it was the actual conference side of the proceedings or the ‘heavy night’ on Friday that she enjoyed is open to conjecture. Next year’s conference is scheduled to be in Brisbane.

I know what you are going to ask, what has Harriet been up to recently? Good question. Well, she is still dancing twice a week (jazz, tap and ballet – no zumba or pogo yet as far as I’m aware). Unfortunately, we only ever get to see her perform at the end of year show (which is, spookily, held at the end of the year) so it’s difficult to say how she’s progressing but she loves doing it, which is obviously all that really matters. I have a feeling (it’s only a feeling because I never actually bothered to read the letter she brought home with her about it) that she will be taking her Grade 3 ballet exams in October. This will involve extra rehearsals, a touch of nerves and lots of dancing around the house... and I think Harriet might be doing extra stuff as well. I think it’s fair to say that she gets her dancing genes off her mother, and the same could probably go for her ‘baking’ genes. Every weekend she can be relied upon to rustle up something, last week’s marble cake was scrumptious (truly). She basically flies solo on measuring, mixing, assembling and putting in the oven. The only thing she needs help with is remembering to take things out of the oven again before the smoke alarm goes off (and no she doesn’t get that from me. It’s like her messy gene... we just don’t know where it originates from). This weekend she has mainly been making cheese straws for a school project, she was supposed to have a friend come over to help make them but unfortunately she succumbed to illness so Harriet had to go it alone. The results looked very good but as she needs enough to feed the entire class (and teachers) we weren’t allowed to tuck in.

Me and the kids finally saw an Emu this weekend (or is that Emo? You know, it’s like an ostrich but with a more cheery outlook on life), we had previously seen most of the other uniquely Australian creatures but not an emu.
Anyway, that’s all for now, next time I will catch up on George’s news, there’s quite a lot of it... you might want to consider ordering out again.
H

*the same would also be true of sword swallowing and for that matter fire eating. In fact as a general rule of thumb, if it’s anything to do with putting things in your mouth then I’m probably not the best person in the world to be teaching you. I mean, I will give it a go but the outcome could be very messy indeed.