| Rain dribbles on the glass like saliva down a baby's | | | | I've learned to love. Slashes of primary colour |
| chin. The ocean's frying pan grey. No matter. | | | | against grey leaves turn out to be parrots |
| Renting a beach house for two weeks doesn't | | | | squawking like Aussie sheilas. |
| guarantee sun every day. Besides, it's an excuse | | | | Half way down the tree-lined drive, I hear a |
| for staying in my nightie, nestling into the sofa and | | | | fearsome growl - wild pig? It's a koala the size of |
| sifting through piles of interior design magazines | | | | a five year old child snoring in the fork of a |
| our landlords collect obsessively. | | | | branch half way up a eucalypt tree. |
| Not only do they treasure these Bibles of | | | | Even after living in Australia nearly a decade, I'm |
| fashionable living, they fall victim to almost every | | | | surprised how available wildlife icons are. Here on |
| fad. Glancing up from an article about the | | | | Mornington Peninsula, an hour's drive from |
| necessity of small, irregular shaped vases I notice | | | | Melbourne, yellow road signs feature silhouettes of |
| similar small, irregular shaped vases on the table | | | | kangaroos. A few years ago one of our school |
| by my feet. | | | | dads lost his life when his car collided with a |
| My husband's a bit wistful about the old dinghy | | | | jumping jack. |
| that has been sawn in half, painted white and | | | | Out past the gate, a bearded dad trudges past |
| turned into a "characterful shelving unit" complete | | | | holding an umbrella over a glum baby in his |
| with oars. | | | | backpack. |
| This piece of nautical kitch dominates the living | | | | Negotiating puddles, I take a wrong turn and |
| area and stores next to nothing for the space it | | | | wander through the camp grounds, which at this |
| takes up - though I suppose the oars could be | | | | hour is like strolling through someone's bedroom. |
| useful for biffing burglars. | | | | Trying to avoid staring at men munching toast in |
| He's seen an article in one of the magazines | | | | their undies, I savour the aroma of bacon and |
| explaining how to make one. It's a lot of work, | | | | eggs. |
| apparently. No way are we having a chopped up | | | | Life among the damp tents and caravans seems |
| boat back home, not even in the new spare | | | | intimate and accepting, not unlike how Iron Age |
| room earmarked to be his office. | | | | villages might have been. Half expecting to hear |
| Puffing in from his morning jog, he asks if I'd like | | | | cries of women giving birth and men hammering |
| a blanket which is so thoughtful he almost | | | | tools inside their tents, I accelerate towards the |
| deserves a chopped up dinghy. But standing there | | | | beach. |
| in a glow of sweat and rain he makes me feel | | | | Like acres of spilt salt, sand stretches to |
| guilty. | | | | dishwater sea. It's empty except for a few kids |
| Since arriving three days ago we've eaten and | | | | who signed up for Learn to Surf classes |
| drunk ourselves into a stupor. He probably burned | | | | yesterday when it was sunny. They squeeze |
| up half last night's dinner while he was out | | | | reluctantly into already sopping wet suits. |
| thundering through the drizzle. | | | | Watching a squall ride in with the waves and a |
| Sighing, I get dressed, tie my walking shoes and | | | | scattering of seagulls, I hear the sofa calling. |
| slide into a parka. Aspects of the Australian bush | | | | |