lazing on a sunny afternoon

Returning to that glorious Easter at Lady Bay in 2009:

Bron, Corinne and I drinking our NZ white on the balcony of our villa

my favourite photo of my mates

Those were the days, and we thought they'd never end.

 

Now back to earlier times, about 1966.  My friend Vivien sent me this photo recently.  The opera  house being built!  This was our first interstate foray having arrived in Australia in 1964.  We lived in South Australia and Vivien and parents lived at Cronulla.  In England we had lived in the same street, virtually opposite each other.  I loved that grey dress that I'm wearing.  I'm pretty sure my Mum made it from an old dress of Vivien's Mum.

Now, you remember the blog post where I saw the black sails of the Sydney Hobart yachts arriving in the Derwent?  Well, Vivien took this photo at Coogee as they were leaving.  Small things make the world seem so connected.

And here's a beautiful small thing.  My  little nextdoor neighbour amusing herself as her Dad and brother play cricket against the back wall.

Another beautiful thing.  When I first returned to Bellerive, this fence was planted out in sunflowers.  Currently there are massed cornflowers with some persistent sunflowers.  This house raises my ire because it is so huge but I feel kindly to anyone who cares enough to plan floral displays on the street front.  The Arbiter of Taste has spoken again.

My fellow Arbiter of Taste, the Fleurieu Floosie, is responsible for the title of this blog post.  Last Sunday she devoted her radio show to Summer Songs.  I lazed, and remembered the photos from that 2009 holiday at Lady Bay.

etc etc etc

Yes, I've just watched The King and I - a lot of cringing and a lot of marveling at Yul Brynner's body. I've also watched From Here to Eternity.  I despair of US culture, the adoration of the white man in uniform.  The rolling in the surf bit is the best bit and should have taken up at least half the film.  I also have to report on Daphne du Maurier's Rule Britannia.   Admittedly when I picked up this book from a book cupboard aka Street Library, I was confusing du Maurier with Josephine Tey...  I read this book incredulously.  It was du Maurier's last novel, written in 1972.  She writes of a joint government agreement to merge the UK and the USA to create one economic and military entity of English speaking nations, USUK, with Australia to join later.  Given I've always considered AUKUS to be better named USUKA this was right up my alley.  As were those Celts fighting against  the installation of American culture and control in Cornwall.  There are grating aspects to this novel but, gosh, I enjoyed reading it on New Year's Day.

I didn't make plans for NYE.  I thought I'd just wait to see what happens in Bellerive.  Would it be more than the two toots of a car horn that welcomed the year in Triabunna?  Around 9pm Jilly and I strolled to the bike path above the beach thinking we may be able to see the Hobart fireworks from there.  A number  of families had the same idea with many enjoying glow sticks and sparklers on the beach.  The fireworks started promptly at 9.30pm.  It was  joyous to watch them surrounded by children.

We walked home catching up with neighbours Fiona and Hudson en route.  Fiona bedecked us with glow sticks and invited us to toast marshmallows over a candle in her small courtyard.  We left before midnight, and then watched the Hobart midnight fireworks from my bedroom window and, simultaneously, the Sydney fireworks on iview.  Then a glass of bubbly to celebrate the most social NYE I've had in a long time.

midnight fireworks from the bedroom window

After such a grand start to 2026, I'm sharing other good omens:

the moon through my bedroom window, with curious reflections

 

double rainbows

red skies at night after glorious summer days

Georgia and Miya at Malcolm's dam near Triabunna

Jilly showing the way in best Aunty mode

Tonight's dinner - gnocchi with pesto made today thanks to the pot of basil  Her Majesty gave me for Christmas.  (I have no idea how I got that split half effect.)  The wine is a NZ sauvignon blanc.  Not my usual beverage but I was re-creating a meal The Easterers had on our first reunion at Lady Bay in 2009.  Bronny's PA had organised the accommodation, Corinne was into NZ wines, Heather loved Lady Bay, and I had a garden full of basil in Wentworth.  With age comes nostalgia.

Not forgetting Christmas

Christmas paraphernalia is scant at my place.  To be honest, I don't think anyone's noticed.

But I love it.  Everything is meaningful to me.

But I tore myself away to drive to Tribes on a warm but windy and showery Christmas Eve.  The warm roads evaporated the water to a low mist, and the drive was magical and mystical, fairytale-like.

My intention was to camp in Georgia's paddock, something I've been keen to do for some time.  However, Ella's room became available and I could avoid wrangling tent poles and canvas in the blustery wind.  The Andre Jamet tent was state of the art in the 1970s...  Apparently they are collectors' items now.  In another nod to the past, I had managed to find Tarrango wine.  Back in the days of living at 01 Queen Street in Bellerive, Tarrango was the wine we had for the Ceremonial Cutting of the Ham on Christmas Eve after Mrs History and I returned from carol singing with the Cottage School children.  That house is now part of the Cottage School, which is what we had always hoped.  [Christmas and nostalgia!] Anyway, cutting of the ham at Georgia's was a grand event.  Oscar had baked the ham and its deliciousness wafted from room to room.

Christmas Lunch was also a grand event with Georgia's Mum and her brother plus two of her sons and their girlfriends.  The most social Christmas I've had in a very long time.  Somehow I have failed to mention the 5 dogs🐕🐩🐶🐺🐾🐾none of whom looked anything like this, well maybe the paws.

Mid morning of Boxing Day was to be spent with Their Royal Highnesses just out of Tribes.  I had a lovely time whiling away the early morning reading John Donne in the sunroom aka atrium.  I have always enjoyed his poetry and it transpired that the book I had found among Georgia's books was my copy from school.  I think he may have been an ancestor of Mick Jagger...

Their Highnesses live in a home among the gum trees.  I love the drive out to it.  The cottage nestles in a field of potatoes.  Once it would have been exactly where I'd want to live.

This little chap kept Jill company, while Her Majesty and I drank tea and caught up.  And then the lovely drive back to Bellerive where all my presents awaited.