JUST ANOTHER BORING OLD WEEKEND IN MANDURAH

This is what we moved down here for.

Yesterday, after Connor returned from his friend's birthday party, we piled into the car and drove out to the Pinjarra Show, where we spent three hours wandering around stalls, listening to horrendously bad country music (by a band named, wait for it, "The Lone Rangers". Yup, the only four blokes in town who haven't seen Airheads....), and fondling antiques while the kids went on camel rides, fondled snakes, and stuffed themselves full of strange-flavoured licorice. (Sour ice-cream flavour? Really?). And, of course, underwent the obligatory face-painting. Battkid-style:

My daughter the skeleton (only because the face painter refused to do a vampire), and her younger brother, Hulk. The girls directly behind them took one look, and asked for butterflies...

Today, after a fish & chip lunch overlooking the canal, we picked up Blakey from the train station and whisked ourselves off to the foreshore, where we piled onto a boat and spent an hour cruising through the canals into the bay, where a pod of dolphins played tag with the prow and we all sat around wondering what the working classes were up to :)

The view less than a foot away from our, well, feet.

On the way back into the foreshore, Erin and Connor were ushered to the front of the cabin. And one after the other, they got to do this:

Because what you want when you're steering a $200 000 boat through narrow canals bounded by houses worth an average of $3M each is a psychotic 4 year old at the wheel. His first words upon grasping the wheel? "We're going to CRASH!" :)

Reason number one for moving here was to give our kids a lifestyle they weren't getting in the Northern Suburbs. So far, good God, it's proving easy.

TIDBITS TO TIDE YOU OVER

Things are still mega busy at the new Batthome, so just to keep in contact, a couple of thoughts--

ON THE PREMIER LEAGUE

Is the anything funnier than seeing a fat, shirtless, toothless Geordie man crying?

ON POULTRY BEHAVIOUR

So to bide our time while Mum nipped into the shop, Erin, Connor and I sat in the car and told each other jokes. I was still crying with laughter from this effort when Lyn got back:

ERIN: Connor, why did the chicken cross the road?
CONNOR: (Pauses for well over half a minute while he contemplates possible answers. Finally....) Because he's stupid?

Laugh? I nearly wet myself.


More soon, with added substance!

INCIDENTALLY...

... and those of you who know me will realise what a big thing it is that I say this:

I loved Star Trek.

SHIT NECK HIGH AND RISING

Hello my absent friends. I have returned.

It's been a strenuous and stressful time since we last spoke. Moving an entire household of 5 people a hundred-plus kilometres with only the assistance of a teensy tiny wife, my father, and a 3 tonne truck was, to say the least, physically draining.

My Dad, it should be noted, is not only a man of rare brilliance when it comes to packing a truck, there is every possibility that underneath his skin lies the plutonium heart of a Terminator. Seriously, this man could cut his head off, and would simply gaffer tape it back on, finish the job, and go for a beer. To paraphrase Larry Miller, if I go to the bank and the post office in the same day, I need a lie down. Without him, we may still be dragging the last of the pot plants up the driveway.

But we're in, and the last panic over the seller's paperwork is slowly dying down (Oh, the happiness that comes from dealing with an NESB seller who communicates through her 13 year old son and didn't think to apply for probate when her husband died intestate. Oh, how we've laughed.....). And just when we thought we might get to put our feet up and crack a coldie: bad family news struck last night, rather horrible news in fact. Private news that I'm not going to discuss here (although everyone who lives under our roof is okay, for those who might be worried). Lyn and I are heartbroken, and as much as we're there for the person to whom the tragedy has befallen, there is no good that can come from it, and it's cast a pall over our first days in this house.

So I'm back, blogosphere, and I'm sure the whole world has fallen into disrepair while I've been gone-- don't worry, I'll send a man around. As to the rest, give us a short while.

NB: If you're a friend, and unaware of the news, don't be alarmed. If you're worried, just email me, and we'll chat.

INCOMMUNICADO or HURRY THE FUCK UP AND BE FRIDAY ALREADY!

So it's been a while, and sorry to say, my little darlings, but it'll be a little while yet before I'm fully back to my blogging best. We're on the move, y'see: upping sticks and moving the entire Battourage a hundred plus kilometres southwards where we shall set up shop by the sea and spend the rest of our days tormenting stray dolphins and eating crab and fetta pies.

Upshot is, the phone line goes bye byes here some time tomorrow night and won't be up at the new place until early next week. Until then, no internets for busy Batts.

In the meantime, feel free to have yourselves an open thread in the comments section, and a picture I took at the state aquarium some time ago: