Snug at Bungan

The theme from Endless Summer is blasting from the iPod and John McG is starting his second novel. How does he do it?. Maybe he reads while barbequing and washing up. I must make any effort to finish at least one book before returning ~ a cover to cover reading of the SMH doesn't count.

I promise to remove my sunglasses once the Peninsula sunshine stops reflecting off the hard surfaces ~ all that chrome and white!. It's enough to make you weep.

The surf is calling my name and I believe a post-Weet Bix plunge is called for. Now, if the theory is correct I shouldn't drown: I have waited the compulsory 30 minutes since eating and the surf looks inviting. Besides, the local surf club has six young clubbies on hand to ensure my safety and none resemble Tony Abbott. I strip down to the budgie smugglers and race into the foaming water. Magic!.

We have settled into 5B Karloo Crescent to celebrate Marge's 90th and the pantry is groaning from Benham clan contributions. I suppose we can take home anything that is not consumed. Still, there does seem to be a lot of comestibles for a week. Kim and Wendy's tic-tacking has worked and there is minimal duplication ~ you can't have too much ash-crusted goat's cheese in my opinion.