Just yesterday bragging about Japan and today readying for my week at the beach. It’s a charmed life I lead, eh? While the week in question is not actually until late December – just after Christmas – now is the time to book houses if you want to go to the small town that we want to go to. Marion Bay is where we went last year, and between the bait shop and the local pub, and the few houses for rent, it’s nothing but beaches and national park for miles.
I love Yorke’s Peninsula. I love how quiet and rugged it is, and I love that we are creating memories each year we go. With my best friends and their small girls (all four of them, blonde bits of cheek and giggles) and a lot of food and wine and beer and gin and books and Scrabble. A week at the beach, early morning walks, everyone in the kitchen for breakky, a few litres of suncream and always small sticky hands to help, singing, finding sand everywhere, crying children and sleepless children and cuddly children and afternoon naps. Last year I didn’t wash my hair once, all week. It was amazing.
I can’t wait to buy new bathers for the season, and start thinking about which books to take. I’m going to teach Sophie some yoga and I want to get one of those underwater phone cases so I can take pictures of the littles at the beach. I am going to try Deb’s new cauliflower slaw and cucumber lemonade. I’m listening to Big Star right now just dreaming of the dusty roads and the long, hot drive.