My very extremely nice parents child-cat-guinea pig-sat last week while The Man and I ran away from home. We rented the world's tiniest cottage on the beach...
...with possibly the world's best views. This is the one from the bedroom window. Why would you ever get out of bed?
To go through the red gate of course, down to the beach, to find rocks, starfish and fossils, and look at sheep and echidnas. Well, lots of sheep, one echidna.
And to sometimes get in the car and go and look at other beaches...
...climb high cliffs, and go for supplies to the one place on the island actually open in the winter season. Providentially this was a blessed cheesemaker, who also baked sourdough in his wood fired oven. The gods were smiling. We ate bread and cheese for days from the cottage's retro crockery collection, circa 1974, and drank some very nice pinot noir.
Every evening The Man lit the fire, which gave us the perfect opportunity to eat more cheese, and of course, drink more wine.
But then, oh no, The Man ran out of coffee, so we had to come home. Nothing less catastrophic could have torn us away. But at least we got to ride on the ferry.
Thanks Mum and Dad, couldn't have done it without you.
Tired, but determinedly cheerful mother of four. One grown up son (The Boy), one grown up daughter (The Girl), two girls at home, Rosy (17) and Posy (13). Trying to buy a little less, make a little more, live a little lighter, not mess up the children too much..