Getting older involves trading many things, like working knees, for perspective and insight; on balance maybe not a bad trade, but the irony of watching the same lessons being learnt, or not is tough.
The Gold Coast’s a tourist destination on the eastern edge of Australia, where masses of burned and tanned bodies dressed in vests, flat caps and bikinis, writhe round the ankles of a forest of sky-scrapers.
My Dad, brother and I have a tradition of finding adventures on holiday. Nick’s planning, stepping off the beaten track and mucking around, make for a good time.
Christchurch’s botanical gardens are beautifully kept, but after a day and a night, and another day of rain we nonetheless decided to go with the flow and head on down to the coast:
Unrelated to pretty much anything else here, but a good parenting fable and top of this trip’s playlist.
At Blockhill, Melisa and Olmec are 8 years into their sustainable, low environmental impact project, and we were bowled over by their efforts to turn a grass hillside into a verdant and bountiful garden.
This trip took a lot of preparation: arranging time off school, travel arrangements, route planning etc. etc. but all that only took us as far as Wellington on the North Island.