A few days away

Feeling a bit house bound of late, getting Flo into her routine, we decided to change the scene with a last minute trip to Gerroa, one of our favourite destinations from Sydney. Less than two hours south of the city it's a gorgeous village with one shop and one cafe that sits at the northern end of Seven Mile Beach , a spectacular arch of surf, stretching down the coast for, ahem, seven miles. The house we rented was gorgeous, with the most amazing views along the beach. It's so easy to entertain Scarlett at the beach. All she needs is a football and somewhere to dig a big hole. We liked our 3 day break at the house so much, we've booked it again for the weekend of my birthday with Rick who arrives from England at the end of April for a holiday with his Goddaughter Scarlett. Florence is now a month old and putting on weight and feeding well. Her big eyes have opened up more now and we are starting to see the family resemblances and differences between her and Scarlett. I think she has my mum's Welsh nose, while she seems to have Rob's eyes. Here are a few pix of us messing about at the beach and in the bath, and some shots of the house - check out that view.

A visit from the Russells

Our old family friends,the Russells, hit Sydney this weekend. Despite the age gap between her and 12-year-old Matthew, Scarlett fell helplessly in love and thought everything he did was divine. While Matthew and Ben camped on our lawn in a tent, Mark and Laura and us caught up on old times, reminiscing about our times together in London, before children. Long gone the days of multiple fag packets, cigarettes between courses, late night board games and early hour runs to the garage for more fags. However, we remained quite certain we preferred life now. Scarlett was a stunningly behaved child and Flo, mostly, snoozed throughout.

A very Happy Easter

What a top easter. It begun on Good Friday with a birthday party for one-year old Bronte Cummins at Zoe and Paul's house complete with Easter egg hunt. Our freakish offspring being the only child among the hoard who doesn't like chocolate used her time with her collection of egg booty licking it before spitting it out on the lawn. On easter Saturday we had Kendall and Brett, the godfathers, and Lara and Adam for lunch with their new baby Toby, born three days before Florence. It was my first opportunity to exercise my long dormant 'long boozy lunch' gland and, may I say, I used my time well. It was a glorious day with Scarlett bonding even more with Godfather Brett, at one point even inviting him to wipe her bottom after a poo, high praise indeed when you're three. On Easter Sunday we walked up the road to the local church for the Easter Sunday service. We were checking out the church as a possible site for Florence's christening and found and extremely friendly and family-oriented bunch. In stark contrast to my Catholic church upbringing, where the priest was often a terrifying, booze-laden, crazy-eyed weirdo, here we found an extremely friendly vicar who likes jazz and made jokes during his sermon. Happy easter one and all.

Top weekend

We started the weekend with a visit to Wylie's baths on Friday afternoon to catch with our old mate Saska on her last afternoon in Sydney before flying back to London. Saska lived in Sydney for 10 years before heading home to England the year before last. Her leaving celebrations, dubbed the festival of Saska lasted some days and even made it into the paper. She was back in Sydney for her pre-40th birthday celebrations and the second festival of Saska was on again. We hosted a dinner and went to her 40th birthday dinner as part of the 3 week festival. our afternoon at Wylie's was quite the mother's meeting - us with Florence (Scarlett at nursery) Sue sans her son Wilf (also in nursery), Melissa with baby Lotus, Tracy pregnant with her first and Saska, being honorary bottle feeder of the Duthie offspring, keen as ever to give Flo her bottle. After an afternoon swimming in the ocean pool and basking in the sun, we headed round the corner to Barzura for champagne and rose before Saska had to leave. That night the Duthies headed out to dinner en masse. Florence slept in her pram throughout despite it being a very busy noisy restaurant, but then they sleep through anything at this age. Scarlett was a model diner, only drawing on the table cloth a bit and not throwing any of her pizza at the waiter. Saturday was a scorcher devoted to kicking a ball in the back garden, riding bikes, stocking up on food and heading to the pool. In the evening we packed up the pram and the esky and walked up the road to the local church where a brilliant jazz trio played among the gravestones. About 100 or so people gathered at sunset to listen with picnics and we dined on double smoked ham, pecorino, ciabatta, red wine and champagne, again while Flo slept throughout. It was quite magical. Then at 7.30pm we headed home in the dark to observe Earth Hour until 8.30pm where pretty much the whole city turned off its lights for an hour to bring attention to global warming. Even the harbour bridge and opera house had their spotlights turned off and most of the skyscrapers turned off unnecessary lights making a dramatic difference to the usual city skyline view at night. We lit candles and kept the telly off to do our bit too.

Out and about

We're pretty sure Florence enjoyed her first day at the beach yesterday, despite sleeping throughout the whole experience. After a few wet and windy days - very unusual for Autumn - more typical sunny days returned this week and we headed for Balmoral. We also managed a couple of trips to the pool, which were fun for Rob and Scarlett but less thrilling for Flo and I who aren't allowed to swim yet. Tomorrow night Florence will visit her first restaurant for dinner and on Saturday attend her first jazz recital in the graveyard of our local church. Doubtless she will sleep through it all.

10 days old

We can't believe 10 days has passed so quickly since Florence popped into our lives. She is being a model baby and has slipped pretty much into our fascist feeding and sleeping routine so that she is waking once a night for a feed. She nods off pretty much whenever she feels like it in the day despite our best efforts to keep her awake - pinching, sticking pins in her, hosing her down, playing really loud, really bad 70s rock etc - but by bedtime at 6.30pm she's unconscious until we wake her at 10.30pm for a bottle and then she wakes us at about 3 for another. Then she's out again until 7am. I'm relieved to be sleeping better than I did when I was pregnant now that my nocturnal bathroom visits have ceased and I can sleep comfortably on my tummy once more. Oooh and gin. It's lovely that gin. Bottle feeding rocks - for me and her, although Rob is slowly trying to introduce me to solids. We have had lots of visitors, lots of champagne and Florence has been baby sat for already as we went out to a 40th on Friday night. Scarlett is being a really sweet big sister (despite being a a bit of a stroppy sod to us) , soothing her when she cries, helping with feeds and giving big kisses and cuddles at sleep times. She's also sharing all her toys with Flo and eats all her meals sitting next to her. We're off to the shops now to show Florence off to all the Italian ladies at our local grocer who were also convinced we were having a boy.

Introducing Florence Elizabeth Mary

On St Patrick's Day at 3.20pm our second saintly daughter Florence arrived with all the speed and grace of a baseball being fired from a batting cage machine. To say her delivery was rapid would be to understate greatly. After a couple of hours of regular bearable contractions, things started to get a bit intense and I asked for an epidural. But there was no time for that namby pamby pain relief nonsense. Then I went from not even halfway dilated to giving birth in 30 minutes. I will not give details of the pain except to say, if I had been handed a gun I would have used it on myself and would have given away any state secrets in my possession. As always though once she arrived all memories of pain and suffering were replaced by feelings of adoration for our perfect little parcel. Today I am shattered as the woman sharing the hospital room with me was not blessed with a saint and her baby cried all night - and I mean all night - while Florence snoozed throughout. We are now all home and happy to receive visitors bearing flowers and cold chardonnay.

I am 3, hear me roar

Thursday was Scarlett's birthday - she turned 3. After a morning in bed opening her lovely presents and cards, we gave her the play kitchen we had been hiding in the laundry loo for the last month. At nursery she had a huge fuss made of her and had a cake. In the evening we met up with the godfathers Kendall and Brett, our friend George with her kids Sophie and James and our old mate Ann-marie who was over from Auckland for the week and we all had a special birthday dinner out. It was all a bit much for Scarlett however and after a long day of fuss and no sleep it ended in tears at bedtime. On Saturday we had Scarlett's party. Zoe and Paul arrived with a Princess jumping castle. Scarlett just about wet her pants - had she been wearing any. It was such a hot afternoon, Rob filled up the paddling pool and the kids went crazy, stripping off all their clothes, leaping in and out of the pool and then jumping on the castle and down the slide like slippery eels. It was a hoot. The adults in the meantime sat on the deck in the shade, eating sausages and gulping down much needed liquid refreshments. Today we gave Scarlett the last part of her birthday present - a new pink fairy bike from Nanny and Grandad. She was absolutely thrilled but a test drive up the driveway has revealed she needs to grow her legs another inch or so before she'll be able to ride it with the zeal and panache such a glorious bike deserves and mainly so that Rob doesn't have to bend over pushing her along as she tries to reach the pedals. I am now less than two weeks away from my due date and counting the days. Getting up in the night to visit the bathroom two or three times isn't half as much fun as it once was. Anytime you're ready, baby, is fine with me.

Zooolander

This is my first week off work and frankly I have been counting the days. We had a busy weekend of swimming and children's birthday parties. Scarlett was invited to her mate Sophie's 4th birthday party which required her to dress as a fairy princess. Here she is looking exquisitely calm and thoughtful. Moments after this photo was taken, she declared her fairy dress 'too itchy' and it was removed in favour of a more subdued gown. That's 100% polyester for you. At the party, a chaotic mix of 'live fairy entertainment', cordial, and sandwiches made from hundreds and thousands, Scarlett got her face painted before we dragged her off to bed for the afternoon, so we could return later to the party venue for adult portion of the evening, a right old knees up for everyone except the pregnant lady in the corner. When you are sober, drunk people are total idiots. Oh to be one of them again. On Monday I got to join Rob and Scarlett for their regular sojourn to Taronga Zoo. We discovered that the new elephant enclosure has an indoor annexe where you can visit and stroke the elephants. It was brilliant. We had a big cuddle with an elephant and were amazed at how hard and firm his trunk was and how spiky his hair was. Later Rob and Scarlett bumped into our old friends the Mckendrys who were hanging out at the gorilla enclosure.

A pair of queens

There was a right hoo ha in Sydney on Tuesday as the superliner Queen Mary 2, the world's biggest queen class vessel, pulled into Sydney harbour for the day. On the same evening the QE2 came in, making it the first time the two ships had crossed paths in Sydney harbour since the 1940s. The Queen Mary is absolutely enormous and was quite a spectacle. Traffic was brought to a standstill around the city, and thousands of office workers abandoned their usual positions smoking fags at the entrance of their offices for vantage points around the harbour to get a look at the floating monolith. We joined the crowds, driving down to Mrs Macquarie's Chair and spending the afternoon at the pool there right across the bay from where she was docked in Woolloomooloo. In the pic you can see the QE2 in the forground, and the massive QM2 in the background. Sydney is blessed with so many gorgeous public spaces right on the water to enjoy days like this. Spaces that in many other cities would be reserved for apartments and houses for the very rich or for office blocks - just look at the Thames. Virtually the whole of the north bank, and much of the south, is lined with office blocks and busy roads. Or New York where almost all of the green public space is away from the shore. We took advantage of Sydney's great harbour aspect again yesterday when Rob, Scarlett and I went to Redleaf Pool in Double Bay. It's an amazing shark-netted harbour swimming pool with pontoons to swim out to and sunbake on, a lovely beach, great cafe and fantastic views of all the zillionaire's homes. The point is we got to enjoy the same view as them - for free. It was a glorious day of swimming - something Scarlett can make a good fist of now without any floats - sunbathing on pontoons, lunching and making secret camps under towels. Today is my work leaving lunch before I head off tomorrow. A visit to the Dr last night revealed the baby's head is partially engaged, ready for blast off.

Goodbye Summer, Hello Autumn

This is our last full week of Summer before Autumn officially starts on Scarlett's birthday, March 1. This weekend saw the arrival of the Chinese Year of the Pig. In Chinese lore this is considered the luckiest year to be born in which bodes well for Duthie number 2. Inside a fortune cookie I just opened it says 'Confucius say only a fool sees pork on the menu and does not order it'. Mmmm, did Confucius really say that I wonder. Another cookie ode tells me 'People born in the year of the pig are kind, honest and chivalrous, with an enjoyment of good food.' Pork presumably. We have just had a busy weekend - perhaps a little too busy. I went to see Notes on a Scandal on Friday night which I loved - Judi deserves the Oscar more than Helen in my book. Saturday we went to the Orange Grove organic markets for basil and tomatoes, but ended up buying a mushroom quiche, blood orange juice, a loaf of Sourdough, fruit juice ice pops and honey cured bacon and egg rolls as well. After a lunchtime nap we headed to the pool for a late afternoon swim before sunset. On Sunday Rob was up and out early to meet Rob and Ewan for a bike ride around the Bay Run, Scarlett and I joining them later in the park for coffee. Back home I just collapsed, realising I haven't been slowing down nearly as much as I should, despite being 36 weeks pregnant. Every day we are up and out either at the pool swimming laps, at the beach, at the shops, rushing about, I just felt so exhausted I could hardly lift my head off the couch. So while Rob took Scarlett out to the pool and to the Mardi Gras Fair Day I slept for about 3 hours with the air conditioning on in the bedroom. Heaven. Must do that more often. Not much point having an out of work husband if you don't make use of him while he's off. On their return, Scarlett joined me in bed and zonked out for another two hours, me nodding on and and off with my book. Then we packed up the car with food, drink, chairs and rugs and headed into the city for Tropfest, the world's largest short film festival which is held in The Domain every year. There are huge screens set up and the films are broadcast to live sites around Australia. The winner gets their film shown at the Tribeca Film Festival, gets flights to LA to meet with film industry dudes and prize money, so it's a big deal to win. Most of the past winners have gone on to work full time in the film industry. Every year there's theme or an item that has to be included in each film - this year it was a sneeze. There was a huge crowd but we got a great spot on the grass with good views of the screens and Scarlett was an angel only declaring it 'boring' at about 9.30pm, understandably as this was hours passed her normal bedtime. It's great that she's at an age now when we can do stuff like that with her. The winner was a film about where imaginary friends go when kids grow out of them. Where indeed. Only two more days at work as I pack up on Friday.

House & bump

Here are a few shots of our new house and my bump, being compared against that of my friend Lara who is due a week before me. Those of you who have visited us at our old house will note the new garden is about 400 times the size of the old one.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Yesterday, as Rob and I gulped back tears, Scarlett had her very first haircut. It has never even been trimmed before, but as it had got so long and consequently knotty, we decided it was time. Brushing Scarlett's hair had turned into a nightly negotiation and we were sick of her resembling a child from a Barnardo's children's home poster with her food-slathered hair pasted across her face. Oh and she asked if she could have it cut. So we took her off to Clara's the local hair salon, where for $15 she was transformed from scruffy little girl to stylish bob-wearing grown up girl. Bizarrely it seems that it wasn't only hair that was cut away - a particularly frustrating period of terrible twos naughtiness that appeared since our return from the Uk has also vanished. Today she was more angelic than I can ever remember her being and Rob and I kept looking at each other and wondering what happened to the real Scarlett. Long may it last.

Hooray for Charlie

At about the same time we started telling people we were expecting a baby, three of our friends announced they were too. Lara and Adam are expecting their first baby about 10 days before us and Rob and Freya about 10 days after us. The most anticipated for us however was the arrival of the baby of our fantastic friends in England, Liz and Mike. Their first baby, Ruby, our god-daughter, died a day after she was born in January of last year. In September of last year Liz called to tell us they were pregnant again. We were beyond thrilled to get a call from Liz on Saturday morning telling us they had had baby Charlie Alonzo last week. Here is the little prince looking absolutely adorable, and the Bailey family altogether. Am not sure Liz and Mike could look any prouder. Hooray for Charlie.

There's a baby in there thar hills

'This week your baby weighs a little over 4 pounds and measures 17.2 inches from the top of his head to his heels. His skin is becoming less red and wrinkled, and while most of his bones are hardening, his skull is quite pliable and not completely joined. This will help him ease out of your relatively narrow birth canal.' Oh well that's ok then. Thank you helpful baby development website. I love the inappropriately and hopelessly optimistic term 'ease' in that sentence. Clearly written by someone who hasn't passed a watermelon before. Baby website also tells me that 'Your baby can swallow up to a litre of amniotic fluid each day, passing this out as a type of 'urine' through their kidneys and bladder, back into the fluid around them.' How deeply unsavoury. If I wanted the baby to swim around in urine I'd take it to the local pool. We had our 33 week scan yesterday, during which the sonographer told me 'the head's down'. Well I could have told her that without the hospital needing to invest in an expensive piece of ultrasound equipment. My guess is the baby's head has been 'down' for some time since I feel enormous pressure in my 'downstairs' most of the time. Still with more than 6 weeks left to go and the baby not quite yet cooked, we don't want it coming out too early, now do we? Slightly frustrated that our broadband still isn't going to be connected for another fortnight so can't yet post new pix of me and bump. Just imagine a bowling ball sellotaped onto the front of a woman and you're halfway there.

Happy Australia Day

Today is Australia Day, a day when everyone, except me and a few hundred other journalists, gets to take a public holiday and rejoice at being Australian and all that means. Chanting 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oi, oi, oi' over and over again, drinking beer, having barbecues and taking part in a zillion public events on around the country. In Sydney there is the famous ferry race on the harbour and masses of fireworks tonight. There has been a big hoo ha because the organisers of the big music festival -The Big Day Out - that is on today have banned all Aussie flags and nationalistic symbols anxious their presence will inflame racial tensions. Everyone thinks it's nuts to give the racists control over the flag instead of taking it back as the British have done with the Union Jack after the National Front had it for years. Rather frustratingly my office overlooks Darling Harbour so we all get to look down on all the people having lots of fun without being able to join in. Rob is out and about with Scarlett. They are in the Botanic Gardens as I type getting ready to watch the ferry race. We are having a load of mates over for a late lunch tomorrow so we'll get to celebrate together then. Aussie, Aussie Aussie...


In other news it is now only 7 weeks until our baby arrives. It kicks like a striker all the time and is quite uncomfortable especially when I am sitting down and it really goes into full Jackie Chan mode. We have the cot set up, but superstition prevents us from doing much more until he or she arrives. I'm told second labours are typically about half as long, which bodes well as Scarlett was 6 hours door to door. Please let it be true. I can have the baby and be home in time for Neighbours at 3.30pm. We have numerous friends waiting for the call to swoop in and look after Scarlett for us and she has been briefed that she's not allowed to come to the hospital when the baby comes. This explanation is usually followed by a 'Is the baby coming out now?' question from Scarlett. Unlike when I was pregnant with Scarlett, I currently feel as if I have bowling ball suspended inside me and that if I cough or sneeze unexpectedly the baby will drop out at any moment. Apparently this sensation gets worse with every subsequent birth. I can't tell at this stage which way up the baby is and whether the bit sticking out at the top is the bum or the head. There is a great deal of activity all the time, much of which can be seen through my clothes, so we hope the baby is lot calmer once it comes out. I am still very small, but now obviously pregnant so it's been very weird for many of my colleagues who had no idea I was pregnant. I didn't really start to show until about 25 weeks, when we were in the UK and now I am back at work people keep coming up to me and saying 'I didn't know you were pregnant - when are you due?'. When I reply '7 weeks' they nearly faint. It's like I am having a special express pregnancy that you just add hot water to.

Blown off

I recently had the following column rejected by my editor for being 'distasteful'. I road tested it on my sister, who usually keeps a stiff upper lip on the subject of wind, but even she declared it 'hysterical' adding in her email response that she was 'wiping tears of joy from my face even as I type.' Personally I think both the reader's question and my answer are very funny, even if I do say so myself. Editors - what do they know anyway?.

Q. Being fairly uninhibited folk, my partner and I rate our burps out of ten. We have also considered rating our fluffies but here lies a problem. While burps are usually a single movement, the humble bum trumpet can be a multi-part symphony over the course of 5 to 6 seconds. We don't know on what basis to compare an excellent single blast with a multi-stage performance. Can you advise?
M.W, Artarmon, NSW
I understand your fascination with the scoring of gas omissions, having attended a mixed sex Roman Catholic secondary school in England in the 1980s. In the grimy days of Thatcher's Britain, the grading of one's blow offs was practically part of the curriculum. As an adult I fell in with a crowd who were as free and easy with their combustibles as you and your partner. Indeed when I met the man who would become my husband, I knew he was the one for me when during an early date he responded to a request to take a weekend away together with a brief trouser toot that I understood to mean, `I love you, Bognor sounds perfect.' Later in our relationship we began a system of gas grading using types of car to suggest quality. For example, a small, silent event that attracted no attention from an outsider would score only as a manual mini cooper, whereas an event that could still catch the ear and nostril of a stranger some metres away on a windswept beach would be scored as a Ferrari. I have retained the crown in this contest since 1992 following an episode aboard a British Airways flight from Turkey to England following a 3-week holiday on the Turkish coast. In my defence it was a trip punctuated by frequent spells in restaurants feasting on piles of creamy fetta cheese, ripe tomatoes, olives and aubergines. About an hour into the flight, a noiseless gas escaped from me causing the sleeping passenger next to me to not only snuffle awake (slowly at first and then in a state of panic, with arms waving, much coughing and spluttering) but to attempt to kick out the plane window in a kung-fu style in order to provide fresh air for herself and the other passengers in lieu of oxygen masks dropping down. It took a weightlifter from Theydon Bois to subdue her in the aisle. Which vehicle did we feel matched this moment? What else? To this day it is known to us as The Queen's Coronation Carriage of farts. Please feel free to use our system as your own. I think you'll find it useful as it allows you to talk on a subject most find unsavoury in a secret and polite way. I must go now as I have a Porsche Carerra in the carpark close to its expiry time.

We're in

We are finally in our new house and have had two nights there. So far we're loving it and have discovered the following:
It doesn't have a smoke alarm. I didn't notice the toaster was buggered and the toast was burning to a crisp and filling the high ceilings with smoke until Scarlett called out from the back garden in the manner of Steve McQueen in The Towering Inferno.
It is so big, we call 'where are you?'.
There is road noise from the very big main road we are close to, but we quite like it as background noise
We do not miss living under the flight path
Our old house might have been small but it had fantastic storage. Our new house is bigger but has very little.
The house is so big we have shoved everything we can't find a place for or don't know what to do with into two rooms we don't use yet and have closed the doors. When that happens, those boxes, those skis and that wedding dress simply do not exist.
Wooden floors are lovely but your feet get very dirty by the end of the day.
Having a huge garden is a great way of wearing out small children by throwing a ball for them to run after, over and over
Telephone companies all over the world are staffed by gibbering, drooling idiots who think it is helpful to say 'If you could stop raising your voice and swearing I'll try and help you.'
Scarlett thinks her new room 'is lovely' but is a bit freaked out by sleeping in it
Pam the cat is still living at our old house and we don't feel that inclined to go back and get her. Is this wrong?
We have lots and lots and lots of stuff even after we threw half of everything we own away.
We are very happy with our decision to move.
Once we are a bit more organised I will post some photos of the house.

On the move

We just spent the weekend driving between our house and the new place taking all the loose items that are too hard to pack for the movers - umbrellas, breadmaker, wedding dress, two year old. All quite stressful, particularly when trying to do stuff with small child constantly vying for attention. Bad mummy switched into gear by screaming at small child until she dissolved into tears, closely followed by mummy who felt like horrid heel. Made time the second day to do more fun things like go to the pool and hide under an umbrella from Daddy. Tomorrow Scarlett is having an extra day at nursery so we can finish all the packing and then we move on Wednesday. We'll be really sad to leave our lovely house. We have lived here for 5 years, the longest we have lived anywhere, it's the only house Scarlett and Pam the cat have ever known and we have had a lot of good times here. Last night, we went through all the things we will miss about Reuss Street and all the things we have to look forward to in the new place.
What we'll miss -
Sitting with the front door open hearing the noise passers by on the street
Our fantastic neighbours
Walking to our local Italian shops in the afternoons
The brilliant park in our street
Being 10 mins from the city
Sitting out the back at night under our palm trees listening to other people chatting in their backyards
What we're gaining -
A house twice the size, with 2 more bedrooms and an extra living room
A driveway big enough to do a three point turn in - not sure why this matters but it does
An enormous back garden
Haberfield and Five Dock's Italian shops
An organic market every week at the church in our street
NOT LIVING UNDER THE FLIGHT PATH - YAYYYYYYY!
Being 11 minutes from the city

Goodbye to all that

New year, new us. We have finally got over the jetlag and shocking colds that dogged us all of last week and have all enjoyed three restful nights without any nocturnal interruptions. Scarlett got over it all first, but kept waking in the night and yelling out for us seemingly confused by which bedroom she was in after all the different beds she slept in on our holiday. We have spent the last week, enjoying the balmy, muggy weather, swimming every day at the pool and Rob and I managed a day at the beach alone on Friday while Scarlett was in nursery and have managed to top up the golden tans that temporarily left us in Blightey. Having discovered that British Tv is just as rubbish as anywhere else, we have enjoyed a few quiet nights in front of the box watching the few shows here that are worth watching, thankfully not a thing with the word 'celebrity' in the title. We are now getting ready for our house move next week. We pick up the keys on the weekend so we can start moving over some bits and bobs, and the removal mob come on Wednesday with the big truck for all the furniture and boxes. We are really looking forward to all the extra space and in particular the massive back garden.

Happy New Year

We returned this week, on New Year's Eve morning, from 4 fantastic weeks away in Blightey visiting family and friends. We were based mainly with my Dad in Kent, popping frequently to stay at my sister's in East Sussex. The drive between their homes is a stunning thatched-cottage strewn dream of English country life and reminded me how much I took for granted the beautiful Kentish scenery when I was growing up there. It was brilliant to be in the cold, having to pile on jackets and boots for walks and outdoor excursions and it being dark at 4.30pm every night. It was so amazingly festive everywhere we went, trees and lights and carol concerts but sadly no real snow. Highlights included seeing our nephews Jack and William in their respective nativity play and carol concert, the Dickens Christmas Festival in Rochester complete with fake snow, our visits with great friends Liz and Mike in Whitstable (Liz and i got to compare bumps) and Moira and Fraser in Scotland, catching up with mates in London at our drinks party, a brilliant afternoon at the Tate Modern with Rick riding the tube slides, a gorgeous Sunday afternoon lunch with Ruth and Pete, the look on Scarlett's face when she realised Father Christmas had been, Dad's fantastic Christmas dinner and seeing George Michael in concert at Wembley and getting to spend an afternoon with our favourite honeymooners Sarah and Scott and their gorgeous children Jacob and Ruby who live in New York, but who flew over just for the afternoon to see us. Despite all expectations they would become lifelong friends, Jack and Scarlett fought like cat and dog so Maria and I have agreed they can't meet again until they are in their teens. We arrived back on Dec 31, jetlagged and full of colds, but managed to stay up for the 9pm fireworks, watched in style from an apartment in Walsh Bay over looking the harbour bridge.
In two weeks we are leaving our lovely home of the last 5 years in Leichhardt, renting it out and moving to a bigger house in nearby Ashfield, and from then will be known as the Duthies of Ashfield.