Escaped

I think I might have gone a bit troppo today. The humidity has been getting to me and I suddenly saw the attraction of pegging out the washing in my knickers. You’ll be pleased to learn that I saw sense, but I did do most of the housework in my underwear, not really caring a toss whether anyone could see into the flat. Am turning into a proper Aussie girl already, though am resolutely keeping my northern accent and turning my sentences down at the end.

Ella and I joined Playgroups NSW this morning. The Tuesday group is run by a man called Shane in a leather hat. You couldn’t wish for more really, though if I was going to pick holes, I was disappointed that the sing-along didn’t include anything by Banjo Patterson.

The playgroup was lovely. There were at least 3 other Pommie mothers there, including my fried Kat, who I met at the park. I meet lots of people at the park. Everyone is so friendly but it does remind me of being a fresher at University when you immediately make friends with everyone in your hall of residence and spend the next year trying to avoid at least half of them. On Monday I met an Irish woman who immediately introduced herself as a qualified Montessori teacher and mother of three. She was full of unsolicited child-rearing advice and frankly dodgy hints on child development. I kept quiet about my own experience in the field, partly because I didn’t want to appear smug (though plainly was) and partly because whenever I tell people what I do for a living, I get one of three responses:

1. That must be very satisfying (response: not as satisfying as finding trousers that fit)
2. Oh can you change my accent? (response: tut and roll eyes)
3. I once knew someone with a stammer, but I think it turned out to be a stutter (groan)

At half time, the kids all sat down at a long wooden table and helped themselves to a fresh fruit salad. They were all wearing their legionnaire hats; it honestly did look exactly like Australia is supposed to, which made me smile (they probably wondered what I was smiling about but I’ve learnt not to answer that question because people often think my musings are a bit odd – if you are reading this blog, you may be getting the same impression). Ella acted like a thug for the whole two hours – she’s laying into the ockers left right and centre since we arrived, stealing toys and generally pushing them around. She’s turning out to be remarkably bossy and, well, difficult. Can’t think where she gets it from.

This evening I escaped from the flat on my own for the first time. As I drove away I realised I hadn’t spent a single moment apart from Ella in exactly three weeks, which is a record (I was pushing a trolley around Sainsbury’s when she was two days old). To say she is driving me barmy is under-egging the pudding, so it was a relief to go out in search of a second hand hoover I’d seen advertised in the library (which I can’t join until we have a permanent address). After I picked it up I drove down towards Bronte beach, got lost (self-navigating with a rubbish map but I refuse to buy a tom-tom), got found again and parked up on the waterfront. It was a gorgeous evening so I walked along the beach to Bronte baths where there were still people swimming at 9pm (in case you’re not familiar with the baths in Sydney, these are outdoor swimming pools carved into the rocks. When the waves crash against them it’s quite a ride – see the picture). On the way home I could see the skyscrapers downtown illuminated red and blue and the lights of the eastern suburbs bobbing up and down on the hills. It’s a difficult decision to spend your life in the UK when Sydney has all of this to offer. I feel totally at home in Australia after all these years of carping on about the place, but it would never really be home and I’d never give up my British passport, so I guess tells me everything I need to know, doesn’t it?