Happy 1st birthday to the 2nd largest dog in South Hobart

Winston turns 1 today.  He is a lovely fella, extremely gentle and good-humoured. He has mostly stopped eating shoes. We have met only one larger dog in South Hobart, in that time. We were told Winston was the offspring of a labrador-retriever cross and a labrador-boxer cross. So we were a little shocked when he didn't stop growing. I think he's got some Newfoundland or St Bernard going on there somewhere.

We took him, the kids and the wave ski to Kingston Beach yesterday, to have a paddle in the lazy Browns River estuary. Last time we took him there, he was very keen to follow the boys, but got a bit panicky when the water was too deep for him.

Yesterday was his first experience of the wave ski. Suddenly Elf and Michael were on this orange thing, moving away, faster and faster. Winston followed, and suddenly he was swimming. He had a look on his floppy face of combined worry, astonishment and pride. His jowls floated along either side of his massive nose, like he might be part manta ray.

Marcus took the wave ski off on his own, and looked right at home on it. He paddled up to the footbridge and back, with me trying to keep up (doing a nanna breaststroke to keep my head out of the water). I could not.

Winston makes friends with every dog and child he possibly can. People are always pleased to meet him - he lollops towards them, radiating good intentions. One lady called to us "He must be a Newfoundland! They're so intelligent!". Which is not something we have noticed, yet.

Hound in the sky! Hound in the sky!

Wave ski encounters actual waves shock

Today we took the ski down to Kingston again, and this time, we braved the tiny waves. Elf and I both took it out into the drink, and both found it very stable and fun to scoot about in. I was dinking Marcus at one stage, when we were just drifting and watching a surf club event - a race for kids about Marcus' age. The kids paddled out, we watched, then I was distracted by something else. Next thing I knew, a horde of children were paddling right at us, as we had drifted onto the course. Ulp.

My best time for strapping the ski to the car is now down to about 25 minutes.

Salty sea dog

Today was the Australia Day holiday. This morning I spent over an hour experimenting with tying down the wave ski and paddle. We were not actually going anywhere, so I didn't feel any pressure to get it right straight away. After workshopping it for a while I have finally mastered state-of-the-art ratchet technology, and I feel I am now a proficient user of my tie-downs.

Once it was all trussed up and not going anywhere, we had a chat about maybe all going to the beach. But we were all enjoying just flopping about at home, so we didn't.

I then fell asleep reading a book and generally slipped in and out of consciousness for an hour or so. My inner Solo Man took over and I decided to take the wave ski down to Browns River... alone!

Before I turned off Beach Rd to get to the river, I saw flocks of proud Australian youth, with Aussie flag sombreros, cloaks, bikinis etc, walking to and from the beach. Recently Australia Day has become an over-the-top nationalistic beano, with a booze-fueled anti-social aspect that just makes you want to spend the day at home. Most of the kids were just having a good time, but there are always those aggressive over-revving hoon units cruising around as well.

I was pleased to see the wave ski was still on top of the car when I got there. I got it off and in the water, worked out a nifty way to leave the tie-downs on the car with the ends locked inside and squished safely by the back windows, and paddled happily up and down the river for about an hour.

On one side is a golf course, but on the other is a series of houses backing onto the water. Some are fancy new places, some are older and done up, some are pretty much untouched renovators' delights. Their various attitudes to the river were interesting - some are very engaged with it, with jetties and boats or kayaks pulled up - others have just fenced it off.

In the distance the pub's PA thumped as a cover band murdered Centrefold by the J. Geils Band. Between the riverside houses I could see cars and kids streaming up and down Beach Rd. I imagine the beach probably looked like Bondi, with a towel every three feet, umpteen games of cricket, volleyball and beach soccer, and record levels of horny teen perving.

Meanwhile the serenity on the river was blissful. An old bloke watering his plants on the back porch wished me a good afternoon. Some kids up on the road saw me and yelled "Happy Australia Day". I did not see another soul on the water.

The river here is tidal, and pretty salty. By the time I got back to the car and got the ski back on top, I was feeling very much the salty sea dog. Now, the next step is getting Elf off with the wave ski on her own so she can have a good long paddle too. It's a different business entirely when you are not hurrying back before the kids get bored.

Sunflowers (obviously)

Not long after we moved in at Kingston Beach, Elf and Marcus planted sunflowers. They grew like gangbusters, flowered brilliantly and now are on the wane. The bees are still pretty fond of them though. There's not much room for improvement with sunflowers is there?

Big Walk

I went for a big walk last night. I was determined to walk for two hours. I went up the hill in front of our place, and down through a pathway I had seen but never used. Over Roslyn Ave and down Powell St to the clifftop. Saw the old open-topper bus in a paddock. Some little backwoods weatherboard and clapboard houses. Not many trophy homes around here. Paddocks. There was a gate in the fence across the top of the cliff, inviting you to plummet to destruction. I walked around the cliffs and along Blackmans Bay beach, then up through the residential streets to Roslyn Ave again, along the start of Tinderbox Road.

I went up to have a look at Sherburd Park, my home ground when I came to Kingborough Soccer Club after five or six years playing at University. Sherburd was the scene of my only hat trick, about 10 years ago. I played almost all my life as a fullback, so that was a pretty memorable day. The club shouted me a jug of beer.

I wandered out again along Tinderbox Rd for a bit, but it was dark, narrow and pretty dull walking. I headed down Wells Parade towards the beach, the better lit streets and home. I was listening to the cricket as I went, a thrilling run chase as Australia tried to overhaul New Zealand. I was close to home after only an hour and a half, and with plenty of cricket still to go, so I walked past our place, along Kingston Beach to Browns River.

As I went I was wondering about an orange glow on the horizon - I couldn't think of any large towns over the hills in that direction. I turned my attention elsewhere then looked back to see it was the moon rising. When you have an immovable thing to compare it to (like the horizon) you can appreciate how fast it moves. I turned around and strolled home, thinking about living on a large ball that is spinning in space.

Eep

I am feeling like a small endangered rat kangaroo today, and so I say (if you bend down to listen) - "eep".

The boys have been generally pretty excellent lately. They are having in-depth conversations. Marcus is always trying to teach Michael things. He has also had a massive creative outburst of drawings lately.

We have New Kingston Friends. Elf and I actually met Mel on a plane some weeks back. We went to visit her and met her Canadian husband Greg and her boys Mason and Dylan, who are about a year younger than Marcus and Michael respectively. They live about 10 minutes walk from us in Kingston Heights (ooh la la) - which although lower than our place, has a better view of the beach. The boys all played very happily, except poor Dylan was ejected from the room several times so I played witrh him instead.

They are top folks and we really liked their chocolate brownies. Incredibly, at their wedding their parents recognised each other. Mel's uncle had worked in the same office as Greg's dad in Colombo in 1955.

More scenes from Kingston Beach 7050

Marcus teaching Michael to read. By the end Michael was reading it all unaided.

Diagonal pine, vertical pine, horizontal pine.

A couple of locals working on their tans.

We walked down to the beach yesterday. Boys afrolic in the foam.

Nah, yeah, just got in from the... coast.

I've got my sunnies pushed back carelessly on my head, traces of yesterday's zinc cream on my nose and a bit of sand in my rope-soled boat shoes. No, not really, although that's the image I will be carefully cultivating now that we live in a Beach House.

Moving was very exhausting and isn't complete yet, but all that's left is little bits of of stuff that needs to be shoved in boxes. We have a garage at the Beach House, which in retrospect should have been an essential criterion of the places we looked at. I now realise that if we'd been accepted for either of the two in Sandy Bay we would be in big trouble now, trying to find homes for all this junk. The garage sale is not far away - there is no way we are taking this all back to the New House.

Cultural note on Kingston - one of the aisles at Coles is labelled Brans.

Here are a few pics of the move so far.