Mum and Dad visit Sydney

316 – 318. Jervis Bay Trip

It had been 10 months since we left home and apart from the odd internet phone call we hadn’t had much in the way of contact with our friends or families. However, Mum and Dad were doing a bit of a tour of the Southern hemisphere as part of that “do all the things you never got a chance to do while you were working but now you’re retired you can galavant all you want” phase of their lives, and decided to drop in to Sydney for a couple of weeks… like you do!

Anyway, we had organised a few excursions for their time with us and things started with a trip to 316. Jervis Bay. I’d heard lots about this weekend holiday destination and in our hire car we drove 2 hours south of Sydney to the house on the beach we had rented for a couple of nights. It was gorgeous with 2 spacious double bedrooms and a great dining/kitchen with open plan living area that opened out onto a large balcony with the most spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. The noise of the waves gently washing up on the beach was hypnotic and at night we would find ourselves lying in bed with the windows all open so that we could fall asleep listening to that mesmerising sound.

The place contained all mod-cons and it was a little less rustic that I hoped it would be but when I discovered the gas barbeque on the balcony all was forgiven. In the space of 48 hours I managed to cook steak, fish, chicken, corn on the cob, roasted vegetables and garlic bread on it with out so much as a hint of carbon unlike the charcoal BBQs I’m used to in the UK. One of those was immediately added to my “wish list for things I want in the future!”

Our first night of R&R was rounded of with several glasses of wine and a few hands of Bridge which is never a good combination especially under the watchful (and teetotal) eye of my Father and his card counting prowess!

A night with the waves and the sun was up before we new it. Even though the curtains were or the black-out variety they were useless against the heat from Australian sun and by 0730am the temperature gauge on my watch (I’m such a geek!) was reading 32.4C. The tide was coming in and the increased swell and the fact that the waves were breaking from right to left gave each set the sound of a fighter plane tearing up the coast in the way that the F4 Phantoms and the GE F1-11s used to sound when the drilled on the Clyde in Scotland. With cups of tea in our hands Isla and I sat on the balcony in our PJs and watched the day bloom.

Mum and Dad obviously need the sleep and didn’t surface until after 10am but soon we were all washed and dressed and after a short walk on the beach we made our way from the apartment, which was actually in Vincentia, to Huskisson where the 317. Huskisson Markets were being held.

I all honesty this affair was more like a glorified garage sale than a market and was exemplified by the fact that Dad spent about 30 minutes going on about how he’d just seen a small drill-like tool that he needed to put leg extensions on a table back home which he’d found for $10 lying in a box on the back on someone’s ute which was marked as “odds and ends”.

Despite the usual array of T&C, as I’ve come to call it (tat and crap), we did find a great stall that was selling all kinds of jams and chutneys, the funds of which went to dogs that had been rescued from adverse life circumstances. I think Mum was more interested in the German Shepard bitch, that sat nervously behind the tables since she used to be kept in a 3ft by 2ft cage solely for the purpose of breeding, than the preserves but still she bought a few jars in order to be supportive. Of course, those ended up in our fridge in St Leonards and we enjoyed them to the very last scraping.

The only other place that I found remotely interesting was the hat stall. I’d been toying with the idea of buying a leather hat for a number of months and always put it off because for almost half a year it had done nothing but rain in Sydney. However, the sun was searing down at us and when the bloke at the stall said, “You’re from Scotland aren’t you? These hats a water-proof!” that was me sold. Actually, I was surprised how cool it kept my head and my neck as well as my shoulders due to the wide brim and even though I looked like a complete tool and an Australian it was worth it, especially when Isla said, “You will wear that later won’t you…?”

Moving on swiftly, we stopped in a lovely coffee shop for… coffee and then headed back to the flat, via the supermarket and, of course, the bottle-o. Mum had also picked up a disaster of a jigsaw puzzle which sapped up much of the rest of the day. It didn’t take long for the BBQ to be back on and before you could say “I’m stuffed” the cards and wine were back on the table for a further Bridge rendition. It was a shame that we had to be out early again the next morning and so despite wanting to keep dealing for the perfect hand we had to call it a night and get some shut eye.

In the morning the heat of the sun blistered through the curtains again and we were up and packing the car. We handed in our keys by 10am to the small office that managed our rental and many of the other holiday houses in the area and in minutes were back on the Princes Highway making our way back to Sydney.

The drive was mundane and we were all upset that we’d had to leave such a glorious location especially Mum who kept saying “can we not just stay there for the next 2 weeks?” Oh, if only! None the less, I knew there was something that would cheers up the restless masses and within an hour I spotted the sign for 318. Crooked River Winery which I’d seen on the way down to Jervis Bay. It had only just passed 11am but as I’d noticed written on someone’s tee-shirt a few weeks earlier “Hey, it’s 5pm somewhere in the World!” so we stopped in for a tasting.

It was a quite a find and the owner, Brian, served up the tastiest wines and the best banter combined with a dash of inspirations and a whole heap of wine knowledge. I should point out that actually only Isla and Mum were tasting as Dad’s teetotal and I was driving however, I did smell plenty of new wines and since I was feeling left out, hastily made the impulsive decision to buy a few bottles so that I could do a tasting of my own later once I was sans voiture. In fact those bottles fueled the creative aspects (and questionable prose) of this chapter.

When we reached the boundaries of Sydney we still had over a ¼ tank of petrol left and as we had opted to pay for the tank in advance we had to figure out a way to use it up – not exactly environmentally friendly but at least we recycle for what little that’s worth. Eventually we decided to make the trip up to Palm Beach so that the folks could see the set of Home and Away. They seemed moderately impressed but appeared to have more of an interest in “what are those guys doing with those huge kites?” and for the next 15 minutes we were subject to a barrage of questions about “why the hell would anyone want to do that… that… Kite Surfing? It looks so dangerous!” You should have seen their faces when I told them I was planning a skydive in three weeks time!

After a brief stop for some of the best fish and chips in the whole of the Northern Beaches area we were back on the Pacific Highway cruising through moderate city traffic to our flat. After ditching the car – which incidently we named The Silver Surfer since it was silver and had been the sight of much heated kite surfing debate – we put the olds into a taxi as they were due to spend the rest of their time in a hotel in the centre of the city instead of staying with us on the North Shore. Much as it was good to see them, I think 2 weeks in out confined apartment would have ended in bloodshed – probably during a hand of Bridge.

That said, we did spend an absolutely sufficient amount of time together, however the only things worth mentioning here are the new and therefore 365 Challenge related items so I’m afraid you’ll not hear about the time we went out for dinner and then had a game of cards after too much wine that almost ended in a divorce, a possible strangling, and a near miss concussion…