Weekend Away.

It's Darren's birthday tomorrow. He's 35 and has notably more grey hair than when he was 34, which is not surprising given the ordeal of the last twelve months. He finished his last ever exam in June 2006 and now he's talking about taking the Australian medical certificate, "just in case". I think he's barmy.

Ella has an inkling there's a birthday in the offing. I've told her we're going to DJ's (David Jones') to buy Daddy a birthday cake every day for the last week. This morning she lay in her cot kicking her legs against the footboard singing "Happy Birthday Dear Ella" and telling her stuffed animals, "no, it's Ella's birthday". When we got to nursery this morning, it was little Isabelle's birthday. She's three. I could sense Ella's lip curling at the attention she was getting. "Are you going to have some of Isabelle's cake?" I asked her. "No, it's Ella's cake" she replied. This is what happens when you put little children of 21 months in a class of 2-3 year-olds.

Tomorrow we're taking the said cake and heading up north a bit to stay for three nights at "The Entrance", which is where Sydneysiders take their kids on holiday. It's called The Entrance on account of being on the shores of Lake Tuggerah, which has it's only opening to the ocean at this spot. I hear varying reports on the place ranging from "it's great" to "it's like a 1950's holiday town". Last night I dreamt we found a lion under the sofa and Ruth Madoc chased it off with her xylophone. Hi-Dee-Hi.

We're staying in another beach cabin, though this time the attraction is pelicans rather than kangaroos. For Ella, it's all about the cake.