Happiness is a warm tent

I have been terribly remiss in my blogging duties. I think this is due to a natural slowing in the process of discovery now that we've been here two months. Also, being unemployed gave me a lot more time for reflection and writing...and whinging...

Since I last wrote we have had the excitement of a very large storm (hey, we take entertainment where we can find it) and no electricity for nearly 3 days. This didn't do much for the feeling that we are living in civilisation, especially since the power company couldn't tell us what was wrong or when it would be fixed. Luckily we didn't have any damage to the house, car, or us, and we have gas for hot water and cooking, so we had some candle-lit dinners and an excuse not to iron clothes for work.

More happily, we have just been camping two weekends in a row. The first time to Ledge Point, about 130 km north of Perth. We stayed in a commercial caravan park - not exactly a bush haven - but there are surprisingly few national parks or state forests that have camp sites. Having said that we thoroughly enjoyed relaxing in our newly purchased camp chairs with a book and a bottle of red. The highlight of camping for me is always the moment of zipping up the tent inside your sleeping bag. There is no cosier place in the world. It seems the Fella and I agree in this point. And I am only discovering this now because even though we both enjoy camping enough that we own our own tents, this was our first camping expedition in the four years we've been together.

Ledge Point is just south of Lancelin which hosts an international windsurfing competition every year. So we probably shouldn't have been surprised that it was really, like, windy...  Behind the town is a colossal sand dune. The Fella felt that if everyone in the town left for a few days and stopped sweeping it away the dune would collapse and reclaim the town. Sportier folk than me can hire sand boards to tackle the dune, and off-road vehicles are popular too. It's all very outdoorsy.

Camping was such a success we did it again the next weekend. Despite severe warnings about the availability of sites from the National Parks officer I spoke to, we headed to the Lane-Poole Reserve near Dwellingup on the Saturday of the Easter long weekend (I'd like to thank my agent and the Fella's glass-half-full attitude for giving me the strength to undertake this risky venture). The Reserve is Jarrah forest which was saved from logging by Mr Lane-Poole, with the beautiful Murray River running through it.  Just a little way up the road was a hellishly crowded tangle of tents, caravans and BYO camp showers like suburbia gone horribly wrong. But we found a reasonably uncrowded spot where we could hear Nanga Brook gurgling in the background. On our way out the next day we found a more secluded spot called Charlie's Flat (just up from Tony's Bend) that we intend to return to soon. The roads in the Reserve are all dirt, and that very fine, red dirt that reminds me we're not in NSW. This served well to add some butch to the Forester so we could return to Subaru-infested Freo with heads held high that we'd been (sort of) off-road. Unfortunately some overnight rain dented the image a little, but did make the tent that much cosier.

Now, a few Freo updates. This week I discovered a big, well stocked Asian grocer. I don't know how I managed to miss it while I lamented the need for one in my life. I even went to Northbridge to buy a clay pot cooker! I am also loving the two-shop-sized Italian enclave on Wray Avenue - Frank's Gourmet Meats and Galati and Sons. A proper old-fashioned butcher and greengrocer in walking distance. Brilliant.

There was a Street Arts Festival on in Freo over the long weekend (basically lots of good buskers in case, like me, the term 'street art' doesn't necessarily evoke that meaning). We saw a very talented and amusing young man called Victor Rubilar whose claim to fame is jugglling footballs. He actually held our attention for 45 minutes, which I think is very impressive.

I'm currently in Sydney, which feels a bit like cheating - although I did painstakingly tap out most of this post on my phone on the flight here. I have come here for moral support in turning 30 tomorrow. I'm staying with my brother and my mum has flown down to hang out too. I woke up last night to the sound of proper rain and felt so happy to be here. My brother is spoiling me in the most effective way possible - food! Hand made pasta last night and an upside down pear cake that involved six hours of cooking time. WOW. For lunch today he made Vietnamese pork rolls from scratch. What a guy, huh? So with that it is time to make a cup of tea and assert my right to another slice of that cake.