Camp Cove

We took Ella to the ball pool this morning. Darren likes these places because he gets to read Australian Women's Weekly while I follow Ella up and down the climbing equipment. His knowledge of this season's must-have fashion accessories is second to none but he still resists combing his hair.

All this after a lie-in and a freshly-prepared fruit salad for his brekkie. He does a good impression of a lady who lunches.

The receptionist at the ball pool brings her three year old to work with her. "She must love it here?" I asked. "No, she's totally over it, but it beats paying for childcare" came the reply. The little girl has a mini-sofa under the desk. She crouches underneath playing with her dolls while her mum takes the $12 a time and opens the magnetic gate. She reminds me of a well-behaved dog in a basket. I feel sorry for her every time we visit.

After the ball pool we drove along Old South Head Road and got a parking spot at Camp Cove, which would be impossible at the weekend. I'd prepared a picnic of jambalaya and (another) fruit salad but Ella had fallen asleep so we had to eat it in the car, not quite what I'd had in mind as tour leader, but better than waking her up.

Camp Cove is a harbour beach just around the rock from Watson's Bay. It's one of the first beaches you would see if you sailed through the heads into Sydney Harbour and it turns out to be a gorgeous cresent of golden-coloured sand that looks exactly like the top of an apple crumble. It doesn't say that in the Lonely Planet, but as they welcome readers' reports, I'm going to write in and suggest it.

The sea is green and clear, there's snorkelling on the rocks at one end and a small cafe at the other serving fresh juices, smoothies and various muffins and breads, all of which call out to me (though I resist). The lady in the cafe was hunched over the property pages of the Southern Courier when I walked up to the counter. "Moving house?" I asked. "No, just dreaming about how the other half live" she replied. "My other life is in the north of England", I said. "I can tell you that the view you have right here is exactly how the other half live". She smiled in recognition. It wasn't hard to spot the irony.