Following two exhausting weeks travelling up the East Coast with a couple of posh boys from Sussex/ Oxbridge and some dull Swiss Germans, I had two weeks of highly necessary collapsing and eating in Melbourne. Nothing counteracts horse riding, surfing, snorkelling, rifle-shooting, sailing, getting lost in Byron Bay and other things Anne Really Enjoyed But Is Not Likely To Take Up As A Hobby, like lying on a sofa drinking tea, eating chocolate and watching Grey's Anatomy.
A nine year old Venezuelan child genius who is a friend of my cousin in Melbourne has a crush on me. He drew me a picture (of some dragons), hugs me frequently and asked his mother if he could keep me. Rather tragically, this is by far the most flattering admirer I have had in Australia.
I've delayed my trip to Perth by a week (I'm going tomorrow) because my family friend there gave birth to her baby a week late, going into sudden labour and giving birth to a ten pound baby girl on the floor of her house, delivered by her husband with no assistance. Today I went shopping for baby clothes as a present, a weird and awkward experience because I felt like I could be arrested at any moment on suspicion of not actually having a baby.
My four year old cousin did a dance performance in the living room to the Peter, Paul and Mary version of 'Leaving on a Jet Plane.' It was very moving.
That is all really. Apart from the fact that I am not very good at lassooing goats. Or snorkelling, which just involves me breathing like Darth Vader under water until I decide that I have had enough of this nonsense and prefer to breathe through my nose.
If anyone ever gets the opportunity to go to Fraser Island, they should. It is beautiful. But beware of the dingoes.
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