Not wishing to sound too much of a show-off, these days we are a three loo family (well, it is a big house). I know that might sound a bit over the top when there are only the two of us left at home but you can’t be too clean – can you? No, seriously, Chris has built a self-contained guest suite on the third floor, and very nice it is – the best rooms in the house and with the finest views of the sea. Chris completed all the finishing touches whilst I was away these past three months in Australia.

Having finished the guest suite, Chris continued his quest for making our home “ideal” by turning his attention to the old loo, which faced the wrong way (too complicated to explain in a short blog post). Suffice to say, the room was in great need of renovation. Yesterday, upon my arrival home, I was thrilled to see the new, improved loo, facing the correct way and surrounded in lovely shiny tiles and new flooring.

“All it needs is a new door,” said Chris, “as the old one had to come off because of the sunken floor.”

“All the better to admire it without a door in the way,” I said, standing in the doorway – and I was transfixed for several minutes by the beauty of Chris’s creation.

This morning Chris and I awoke at six-thirty – a little later than my Australian norm of four o’clock (only joking – usually about five o’clock) – and Chris beat me to our regular bathroom on the first floor. Desperate for the loo, I arrived outside the open door and saw Chris had already begun his ablutions and slathered his face with shaving foam.

“Sorry,” he smiled victoriously, “but you have a choice of two other loos. You could even use the new loo without the door… the public loo!”

Now you may think I’m a bit of a show-off because I took Chris’s advice and christened the public loo, but, then again, there was no-one to see because there are only the two of us…

The drive home from London… in photographs.

You spend the morning packing, the early afternoon shopping, and the rest of the afternoon… cloud-shooting! How fitting!

Before going out I gave Bill a bag of old clothes for use as rags and when I returned from cloud-shooting I noticed that they had already come in handy – my brother had spent the day fixing William’s car (what a loving father). I couldn’t have given Bill a more useful goodbye present!

No more blogs for a day or two (or three) while I cross the world and recover. Soon there will be news of the wedding…

Yesterday, with only one day left of my sojourn I returned to Wynnum and sat under the trees and watched… Once a friend said to me, “I know why you like it in Wynnum Sally. It isn’t simply that you used to live here (we were sat on a bench at the seafront at the time), it’s more than that – it has something to do with the air, the streets and the town itself. No wonder you always want to come back here…”

Now I must weigh that suitcase again.

“What’s this?” I thought. “Someone else has beaten me to it.”

And yet, it was a child’s bike, and you wouldn’t suppose that many modern Australian children would be up at the crack of dawn and off on their bikes to do a spot of fishing before school. You would be right. Upon closer inspection I could see that the bicycle had been rescued from a life under water and mud, and resurrected (albeit without its chain) to stand picturesquely beneath the trees near the water’s edge; I didn’t see the rescuer – just his masterpiece. Of course, I took some photographs for you…

I was working away on my painting, desperately trying to finish it by the end of the afternoon when I became aware that I was not alone. There was a movement on a chair back, followed by a cute sound…

“Hoo hoo, chirrup (Hello),” came the voice.

I turned around to see the small magpie sitting on the chair at the end of the verandah table. I took a few photo’s and was surprised that he didn’t mind the little bleep of my mobile phone camera focuser.

“Want some bread?” I enquired.

“Hoo, hoo, hoop? (What’s bread?)”, came the reply.

Maggie had moved to the railings and I placed pieces of bread on the top rail. He pecked and was perhaps disappointed – he threw a morsel onto the decking. It didn’t taste any better there so he returned to the rail and sat.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

“Hoo, hoooo, hoo, chrup, chirrup! (Not really, Sally, I just like to watch you paint!)” he said.

And he sat and kept me company while I finished the painting…

“Isn’t it beautiful here in the early morning?” I asked, making conversation with a passer-by.

The lady with her dog stopped.

“Especially the light,” I added.

“And especially after the rain – it’s so crisp and fresh!” said the lady.

“True,” I agreed.

“And people miss it by staying in bed,” she laughed.

“But not us,” I observed, laughing with her.

The dog urged to carry on and the lady in the white sun hat made to move, then she paused and turned back to me.

“You have a lovely day now!” she said cheerily.

“You too,” I answered equally cheerily.

Kindred spirits.

It has been raining for much of the day; therefore I thought I wouldn’t be able go out for the cycle ride I had promised myself, not until five-thirty this afternoon. It was late to set out, and I knew I would lose the light before my return, but I felt the need to go out on my own and say my private good-bye to Wynnum, the old-fashioned town by the sea, where I spent four of the happiest years of my childhood. Henry’s house, where I am staying at present, (Henry is one of my younger brothers if you are a newcomer to my blog) is close to the centre of town and only a mile from the seafront, so it wasn’t a long ride, just enough to feel the wind in my hair and feel the benefit of being out under my own steam.

I rode down, over the railway lines, past the shopping centre and down to the sea. The sky was pink with the setting of the sun and it reflected on the water in the wading pool, the same wading pool where, as a tot, I was stung by jelly fish; and later, where Henry saved a small boy’s life. There were few people around; the playground was empty, unlike yesterday when we met up with friends and their brood. The youngest tot loved the swings best. I loved to see the faces of the little children in their sandy adventure playground, and I loved it that some of them talked to me and showed off their skills on huge climbing frames, shaking planks and enormous slippery-slides (if you happen to be three feet tall or less). Of course, to experience this you have to walk on the sand yourself… and pop your own head into the hole in the wall so that your face is the face of the fish on the other side…

The light was going – Henry and Diane would worry about me cycling in the dark – and I moved on. Using the cycle-path, I rode almost to Darling Point at the end of the seafront, and I looked up in the direction of Mountjoy Terrace – there wasn’t time to go and see our old house. Instead, I headed back up to Bay Terrace, and the shops, then down Florence Street, past our old primary school – it isn’t a school any more. I remembered how, after assembly we used to march, to the sound of brass band music, from the parade ground into our classrooms. I felt a bit sad, but at least the school had not been torn down (thanks to an outcry from former students who fought against the developers).

It was dark as I turned into Foch Street. Henry and Diane were beginning to worry as I appeared at the top of the stairs.

I will have to get up early and go back again in the morning, just one last time… for now.

This struck me as rather funny. Thank you Robert.