Linda's away on a last minute business trip to Beijing so it was just me and the boys for Christmas here in Strathfield.
Boxing Day: Woke up with hangover, [not surprisingly], but managed to get my act together enough to drag the kids into the car before they switched the Playstation on. Threw in a few of their water-related Christmas pressies and was half way down the road to Barranjoey beach before I realised I was possibly over the limit from last night. Ah well never mind. No cops about I hope?!
Drove through the more affluent of Sydney's suburbs on the way to Palm Beach - the place where the likes of Cate Blanchett, Kylie and Billy Connolly rent holiday homes for their Christmas visits. Well it's not a private beach so why can't plebs like us enjoy it?
Had some major aggro with Andrew on the way because of how he was picking on Paul the whole time. Ended up bawling him out and we arrived at the beach in a really sour mood all round.
This soon changed when we walked down the sand to Palm Beach central. Someone forgot to tell me that Palm beach doesn't have any shops - millionaires presumably just order stuff in on room service.
Luckily someone had set up a mobile coffee shop which also sold ice cream (lifesaver). The surf was up and it was surprisingly strong. It was all very scenic and the turquoise surf looked inviting but a bit scary too.
I'd brought along Paul's junior fishing rod just to shut him up and he kept nagging me that he wanted to use it. A bloke sat next to me while I sipped my coffee mentioned that the rocks at the south end of the beach were a good fishing spot and so I took them down there. What do you know, within 30 seconds of throwing in the line with a bit of my chicken sandwich on the hook we caught some stripey fish about six inches long. The boys just thought this was a dad thing and that I was a natural fisherman. Hahahahaha!!! I spent the next two hours unsuccesfully trying to catch another using scrounged prawn bait, badly sunburning myself on the ankles and knees in the process.
As we fished the spoilt rich sons and daughters came and dived off our fishing rock into the 3m deep blue depths. It all looked very nice, but they used too many F words, as Andrew remarked to me.
Then I plied the kids with more ice cream while I sprinted back to feed more money into the extortionate parking fee meter.
Finished off on the windy north end of the beach, by the surf lifesaver boats, with great views of the Barrenjoey lighthouse and the sweep of the beach, while the boys built sand castles and threw sand in each others faces. I just got fed up with telling them not to and let them cause mayhem.
Then we headed back at fiveish, via Newport beach where we stopped for very scenic fish and chips in the car park, overlooking the surf.
I don't know if they were worn out by all this but I bloody well was.
