all in a day – Page 2 – All in a Day Adventures

All in a Day #16 – Hyde Park – An Obituary?

My backyard

Hyde Park in Mount Lawley has been my backyard for over 30 years. A place of solitude, a running track, a picnic spot, a catch up with friends, a live music venue, a birdwatching platform, a dog walking park, a playground for my kids and now grandkids and most of all somewhere to go when the weather is stupidly hot.

My first visit to Hyde Park was within weeks of moving to Perth in the mid- eighties. My new friend and housemate, Glen, thrust a can of Emu Bitter in my hand and threw me my car keys (he didn’t drive) saying “I need to show you something.”

So, beer in hand we drove to Hyde Park from Subiaco and walked a couple of laps of this magnifcient park. No stranger to these types of parks, being from Tassie, I agreed it was beautiful and vowed to visit again soon. It became the place I took visitors to or went for a picnic occasionally.

It wasn’t until years later when I moved to within walking distance of Hyde Park that it became a regular haunt. We lived in a townhouse with a small courtyard and Hyde Park was our backyard, frontyard and playground.

It was the thoroughfare we used to walk or ride our bikes to our local primary school, the place my kids had birthday parties and caught up with their friends after school. It was grazed knees, icypoles and arvo tea before heading home after school.

It was (and still is) my daily walk – to check on the ducks and lately to count the trees. During my running years it was the laps I pounded over and over, slowly progressing to the first of many fun runs, triathlons and later half marathons.

It’s the place I go to make sense of the world. When I was completing my teaching degree it was the place I went to get clarity when tackling an assignment or before an exam. During COVID it was where everyone went! Now it’s to form the perfect headline for a piece of writing or dredge up some new ideas for a project.

It’s a regular picnic spot where large groups of us gather for catchups and birthdays – the scene of many annual Purple Picnics beneath the Jacaranda trees. Special occasions, sad occasions and celebratory occasions.

My kids (now adults) knew every low-hanging branch, every nook and what was the best angle to hold your body to get the metal roundabout spinning crazy fast. We had names for the ducks and could recount every batch of cygnets. We rescued many injured birds – trudging through thick mud to do so.

The park is still there and at the time of writing this, in full canopy. In a matter of weeks, 180 trees will be removed. Some of Perth’s oldest and largest Morton Bay Figs and London Plane Trees will no longer exist, the entire ecosystem of the islands in the centre of both lakes will be razed to the ground upsetting the nesting sites and possibly displacing hundreds if not thousands of living things, including ducks, swans, ibis and turtles.

Unfortunately the trees at Hyde Park have fallen victim to our love of travel and nice things. Those nice things are the furniture and wooden artifacts made from untreated wood from south-east Asia. Failure to declare wooden products at customs means the invasive Polyphagous shot-hole borer has managed to sneak in. A tiny beetle (2mm) that bores into tree trunks and eventually starves the tree of water and nourishment from inside. First discovered in Fremantle 18 months ago it has infested trees in some of Perth’s major parks, including Kings Park and the only way to stop the spread is to remove the trees.

There are 900 trees in Hyde Park, and in the time I have spent there I have noted very few new trees planted to replace the dead or removed trees. Gaps appear and then are forgotten about – like when you have a molar removed – after a while you stop noticing the gap. This time, the demise of the trees is no longer gradual , its going to be a full-scale decimation.

Perth has just experienced some of the hottest days on record – day after day of temperatures over 35 degrees starts to take its toll on wildlife and humans. Hyde Park and nearby Mary Street are two of the coolest places to go when the temperature is crazy hot.

Suburbs that previously had adequate tree canopies are now more concrete than ever. Developers continue to rush in and bowl over entire blocks including established trees and gardens only to leave blocks empty for years. Can never understand what the rush is.

Hyde Park as we know it is about to change forever. Now I flinch everytime I hear a chainsaw and get anxious when I see plastic tape around a tree – It won’t be long before thats all we can hear.

All In A Day #14 – Sealion the deal

He’s behind you! My paddle buddies shouted as I frantically retrieved my phone from a dry bag on top of my paddleboard!

It was that time again. The day standup paddlers decide it’s not too cold, not to windy and that the sea is not too swelly. Beginning of spring, tail end of the Noongar season Djilba. The sun had started to get a bit of a bite and the easterly was showing its face.

Time to paddle on the ocean after paddling in the sheltered river for the past few months. Or alternatively, some may choose to remain in the shelter of their homes until the weather is stinking hot before they emerge with their boards and paddles. You know who you are! Each to their own.

Me, I like to paddle all year round and I can usually be found puttering around up river with the pelicans and darters. I sometimes paddle alone and sometimes with a group. So this Sunday the weather was all that and the conditions perfect for our first ocean adventure.

We selected Coogee Beach where the ocean is usually flat and most importantly, it has a banging cafe for coffee afterwards. The easterly was puffing and the ocean dead flat – perfect. We paddled up to the Omeo wreck and did a circuit and then headed back towards Coogee Surf Lifesaving. The wind had picked up a bit but as long as we stuck to the shore all was good.

It was around now that we noticed what I originally thought was a swimmer and someone else suspected the “S” word motoring along not far from the shore in the opposite direction to us. It was indeed an “S” word but not the scary one. It was a sealion! A big fat sealion cruising the bay popping up every now and then for a breath before diving deep.

Great excitement ensued and I decided this was a photo opp so I paddled like mad towards the last place I had sighted the big fella. Nothing. Then “He’s behind you!” screeched one of the girls. I scrabbled for my phone (dry bags never open quickly in an emergency) and spun around to see him or her motoring towards me – up and down went his whiskered head and flippers.

I clicked away (yeah I know iPhones don’t make clicks) and got some shots before I realised he wasn’t going to slow down or stop before he got to my board. Thud! his shoulder and back slid under my board shifting me sideways. I think I screamed and then he was gone – diving so deep.

I decided he couldn’t have seen me, he was having such a whale of a time he got carried away and when his body made contact he was just as startled as I, causing him to dive to safety. But I got the shots (and that’s the main thing right?) We were all so excited. He emerged further on and we sat and watched him frolic in the shallows before turning and leading our paddle party back to the beach.

Video evidence!

It was also time to have a swim. The water was cold but so refreshing and the feeling you get after a swim in cold water, especially the ocean – is the best. So, here’s to more days on the ocean, more encounters with nature and more paddling with friends!

What’s the skinny?

Coogee Beach is about 30 minutes drive from Perth city
The Omeo Wreck is popular with snorkellers and divers
The Australian sealion is a playful and curious ‘dog of the sea’ – they live on nearby Carnac Island
The Coogee Beach Cafe do a damn good coffee and muffin (just sayin)
Standup Paddleboarding is popular in Perth and surrounds – see my previous blog about water activities

All in a Day # 13 – The Blue Mountains once in a blue moon

A chance visit to Sydney and a trip to the Blue Mountains – my latest All in A Day adventure

When I found myself with three nights to spare on a recent trip to Sydney I decided to head for the mountains and spend some quality time with family in the tiny town of Blackheath – a community with its head in the clouds and its feet firmly anchored in some of the most amazing rocks I have ever come across!

So I boarded a train in Sydney town – Central Station, and settled in for some scenery and a rolling train trip. I had been out partying at a client’s award presentation at the swanky Star Casino the night before (the reason for my trip) so to sit down for a couple of hours was the perfect solution.

When I arrived in Blackheath just over two hours later my neck was sore from looking this way and that. The only time I had ever been into the Blue Mountains was when I was ten years old. My grandfather drove my sister and I to Katoomba where we got out of the car and stood to gawk at the Three Sisters. Then, back in the car for the trek back to Sydney.

My grandfather liked to show us grandkids all the tourist attractions. Bondi in the summer (where he argued with a parking attendant about the exorbitant parking fees – in 1974) the Harbour Bridge (where I remember dropping coins into a bucket for the 1974 Cyclone Tracy victims) the Opera House – looming above and a visit to Luna Park (where I wore a polkadot dress with a Peterpan collar that made me look ill in the hall of mirrors), Warragamba Dam, where we did the entire tour of the inside of the dam wall, and finally Bullens African Lion Safari Park where we sweltered in his small car with all the windows wound up (to prevent lions entering) and no airconditioning. It was like he had a list and he ticked them off one by one.

I remember getting into huge trouble when we got home from the Blue Mountains trip because I had thrown a chunk of chewing gum from the back window and it had stuck on the duco! Hard as a rock. I had to help remove it.

Deidre was at the Blackheath Station to greet me. A long time between visits for both of us, I was looking forward to catching up. We arrived at her small blue home nestled on a hillside surrounded by trees and soft green grass. I breathed in deeply and it felt (or smelt) so familiar even though I had never been there before. Deidre lives in paradise and I couldn’t believe it took me so long to get there. Tasmania is never far from my memories when I find myself in the bush and this reminded me of Tassie.

We lunched and chatted until tiredness overcame me so I snuck off for an afternoon nap in the attic room. A soft single bed with loads of warm doonas and pillows – I drifted off to the sounds of parrots and sulphur crested cockatoos in the back ground, cool mountain air arrived like an unannounced guest through the open window. I could feel it was going to be cold at night.

I woke up and made my way downstairs after putting on some layers and closing the bedroom window, cold indeed. We made plans to go and watch the blue moon rise over Govett’s Leap. It had been magnificent the night before when I caught it hanging over the city.

Deidre filled thermos cups with delicious pumpkin soup. We took spoons and warm clothing and drove to our pitch dark destination. All the makings of a grand adventure.

We sat in the car and sipped on our soup before getting out out to view the rising moon. I had no idea what scenery lay before me as we clutched the rail and looked out into the dark until I visited two days later during the day light hours. Wow! The moon did not disappoint and we stayed to watch it disappear behind a cloud as a young couple howled from the carpark not far from where we stood. Our bones were chilled so we got back into the car to escape the icy air that enveloped us.

A brilliant night’s sleep – warm and comfy and in the bush – my three favourite states of being. The next morning I set off on a solo adventure as Deidre had some work to do. I decided to follow the railway line – certain that the views would be magnificent somewhere. I wasn’t wrong. After 5 km I came across a group of 20 somethings organising their gear to head to the cliffs for some rock climbing.

I chatted to them and they noted my camera. “The views from where we are going are pretty amazing” one of them said, “follow us down if you like.” So I waited while they loaded their bags with carabinas, ropes, snacks and helmets and fell in behind them – piggybacking onto their adventure – as they skipped down the trail with bags the weight of a human body on their backs.

They reached the edge and I took some pics without getting too close to the long drop. They asked it I would take their photo and I said “yes, as long as I don’t have to hang over the edge.” Photos snapped I bid them farewell and made my way back up the slope. Very steep. Once I reached the top I decided that I had satisfied my need for an amazing view and I had a 5km return walk, so I patted my camera and turned back the way I came.

Blackheath is a sweet little town with the usual supermarkets, bakeries and butcher shops you find in those small places. A visit to the local supermarket where the shelves were so close you have to shimmy past others coming from the opposite direction, a great coffee from Altitude Cafe and some vegetable pasties from the local bakery, I was ready to return to Deidre’s for an afternoon of gin and cakes with some of her friends.

A couple of gins in and the sore calves from the mornings trek started to relax. The lovely company of some friendly locals combined with the warmth of the heater and warming drinks made for a super relaxing afternoon. Once everyone left we helped ourselves to another piece of cake and a cup of tea, chatted some more before we headed to bed.

Another good sleep and I was ready for another hike. This time I decided to head back down to Govett’s Leap to see what I could not see the evening I arrived (breathtaking) and then onto the Grand Canyon Hike- a 7 km loop that took me down into the depths of middle earth and back out again.

Extreme steps on the way in meant extreme steps on the way out. I loved every moment of the trail – ferns, trickling water, waterfalls, thick bush, creatures (a snake, a bearded lizard and some sort of a ground dwelling brush bird) It was like paradise. I was not so enamoured of the steep steps on the way out but at least I was prepared for them.

It always amuses me how people forget that what goes down must go up (in this case). I had a conversation with a couple going the opposite way to me and who had just reached the bottom – they told me that there would be a “bit” of steepness on my climb out, but it shouldn’t be too bad. I, on the other hand warned them of the climb they faced at the other end. I believe both ways were equally steep.

By the time I reached the top those calves were singing! I made my way back to the carpark with a full camera (literally ran out of space) and a full heart. And made my way home for a rest and something to eat.

That afternoon we got in the car and set off on another adventure into Katoomba – around 15 minutes drive away to check out the Three Sisters as the sunset. Groups of tourists and families gathered and took photos of one another and themselves- laughing and having fun in the cool soft light.

We then visited the beautiful Carrington Hotel – a grand dame of a hotel with chairs that enveloped us in their lush cushions. I had a Lemoncello cocktail before we headed out to dinner at the local Thai restaurant. I was ravenous after all my extreme exercise. The food was so good.

My final night and more chats before falling into bed – my last night in the mountains. I slept well and woke early before jamming my reluctant clothing back into my (too small) bag. Final coffee and a final chance to chat. Before boarding the train all the way to the airport and on to Perth. I had only been away from home for five nights in total but it felt like so much more.

What’s the skinny?

Blackheath is at the highest point of the Blue Mountains – altitude 1065 m (no wonder I felt breathless!)
The town is 120 km west of Sydney and you can train there in a couple of hours
Katoomba (home of the Three Sisters) is 10 minutes down the road
The Carrington is a grand old dame in Katoomba – worth a visit
Govetts Leap will take you breath away
If you can deal with steep climbs and steps The Grand Canyon hike is amazing
Blackheath Bakery Patisserie makes the best vegetable pasties!
Rock climbing is very popular in this part of the world.
A Blue Moon is not really blue.
Visit the Three Sisters at sunset and remember to practice your echo.
Bullens African Lion Safari was a thing! Bullen was a circus owner and he made wildlife parks in NSW and Queensland. The NSW park was near Warragamba Dam
If you would like to experience Blackheath and you are looking for a lovely room in an AirBnb Deidre is you hostess with the mostest.

All in a Day #9 Hot Air Ballooning in Northam

A hot air balloon flight over Northam in the Western Australian wheatbelt has me hooked. Ballooning is like flying in a dream.

Hooked on a Feeling (or the most fun you can have while being dangled beneath a sheet of nylon and a roaring flame – 4000ft in the air)

May 2023

“We’ll be landing next to the cemetary, but hopefully not as a convenience!” Pilot Nick quipped as we ascended to 4000 ft.

Pilot Nick wasn’t flying a plane but the biggest hotair balloon I have ever seen. To be honest it was the only hot air balloon I have ever encountered, up close. We were here because I had purchased balloon flights for Anthony’s birthday. A great gift for someone who has professed to a fear of heights!

We were up at 4:30am to meet our pilots (yes they are actually called pilots) Dan and Nick. It was pitch black outside and just a bit chilly. After our brief we were piled onto a bus and a troop carrier, towing a massive wicker basket, to go find our take-off destination.

Not your usual trip to the airport. We headed out of the town of Northam towards open fields. Much chatter over the two way radio and we found a barely concealed entrance and a gate (the first of many). Riding rough shod over fields and a small creek, pausing to ensure the basket was going to fit under low hanging trees, we finally reached our destination – the top paddock. Sorry sheep.

Liberty Balloons has two massive balloons and they quickly set about unfurling the nylon ‘envelope’ (that’s the official term for a balloon) and unloading the massive baskets. I noted with relief that the baskets were divided into four sections to prevent an imbalance.

We had been informed during our briefing that ballooning is a hands-on experience and it would be all hands on deck to get everyone up in the air. Volunteers from our party helped unfold the nylon fabric and get it ready for inflation. While this was happening another balloon company arrived with two big balloons and a private ballooner with a single basket.

Top paddock was beginning to look very surreal. The sheep were nowhere to be seen and mushrooms of intense colour slowly emerged from the golden grass and inflated around us. The first part of the inflation process involves fans of incredible power. Once there is enough air, heat is introduced – horizontal flames powered by liquid propane shoot into the opening of the envelope.

As the balloon lifted and became vertical it was time for us to clamber into the basket. Twenty people in each – five in each section and the pilot in the middle. The basket feels very substantial and nicely padded. “Practice your landing position!” shouts Nick. Landing position entails bending your knees to absorb any impact on landing and bracing yourself against the back of the basket. While Anthony was worried about being up in the sky, landing was probably my worst fear, to be honest.

The sun appeared, glowing orange highliting the wet grass. We can see where we are now. A padock not far from the main road, surrounded by trees. Smoke from nearby burn-offs hangs in the air, mixing with early morning mist.

Finally it is time and Nick sends a blast of flame into our envelope. The basket shifts slightly before the tethering rope is released and we lift off and move across the field, narrowly avoiding trees. It is now that I have a flash of memory – Ian MacEwan’s “Enduring Love” where a man is caught by his leg to the rope secured to the balloon as it takes to the air. I hazzard a peek over the side, no one dangling from the rope. I shake that memory loose as we lift higher under the power of propane and barely perceptible wind currents.

Ears pop as we reach 4000 ft and the gas is switched off. So silent, so still – no one says a word. As we peer over the edge and gaze down on Ballardong Noongar booja at the natural and person made lines, Aboriginal paintings come to mind.

I feel the same as I do when I fly in a dream – sublime! The current changes as we rise to catch it and we are now above the other balloons. That’s a photo I never thought I would take! A balloon from above.

We take a right turn and cruise down the mighty Avon River following its path into town. The CBH silos look like Lego land from afar and parts of the low lying land are swathed in mist. Tiny houses and even smaller cars. I count swimming pools in back yards and feel like I am in a dream.

Before we know it, its time to find somewhere to land. The ballooners have an agreement with local land owners about landing and taking off from their paddocks. One never lands in the spot where you take off and one also never really knows where one is going to land! Consequently there is communication happening the whole time between balloons and the ground crew who are ready to drive to where ever we land and pick us up.

The cemetary was to our right and so too was a vast paddock inhabitated by sheep. That was our final destination. “We will land somewhere here” claims our intrepid pilot before reminding us of our landing stance. The ground was suddenly moving very fast below us, “Brace yourself!” The basket caught the earth and dragged across the ground, almost tipping over. Collective “oohs” and nervous laughter as we ground to a halt.

It’s hard not to jump out but we all remembered the warning “You are all ballast! If you jump out everyone else floats away!” so we wait as the ground crew secure the balloon. The second balloon hot on our tails swoops into the paddock herding a flock of sheep before it and disappears over the rise and lands not unlike our balloon. We laugh at their plight, not unkindly, but knowingly.

Now its time to earn our breakfast. The balloon has to be folded and put back into the box it arrived in. As a seasoned camper I know how these things go. When does any piece of camping equipment ever fit back in its bag?

The crew rally us to complete this final chore before we can get on the bus and head back to breakfast. Lift, push, fold, carry and repeat – suddenly its gone. The object of such incredible joy is a damp piece of nylon stuffed into a crate. I wouldnt fancy the job of taking it out and airing it . Does that happen? I wonder.

The life of a balloon pilot sure would keep you on your toes. Thanks for putting me back down safely on my toes. In the words of our pilot Nick “A balloon flight one walks away from is, indeed, a good one!”

What’s the skinny?

Northam is one hour + 20 mins (96 km) from Perth City
If you are hot air ballooning you must book in advance
Ballooning only takes place from April – October
Stay overnight at one of the hotels or camp grounds as you must be up at 4:30 am to go ballooning!
The Farmers Home Hotel does a banging pub meal and breakfast
There are two balloon companies operating from Northam – Liberty Balloon Flights and Windward Balloon Adventures
A two hour balloon flight will cost you around $350
While in Northam visit the Bilya Koort Boodja Museum – indigenous centre for cultural and environmental knowledge
Check out the silo murals on the outskirts of town

All in Day #8 Numbats & Egg Sandwiches

Numbat stalking in the Dryandra Woodland National Park in the Western Australian Wheatbelt

April 2023

Is there anything more delicious than a service station egg sandwich? The white bread fresh and sinfully soft with egg mixed through with mayonnaise, so creamy and so right. Pop the packet and reach for the sandwich with one hand while guiding the car with the other.

Damn you, egg sandwich, I missed the turn. Glance in the rearview mirror and slow down to savour the eggy goodness of a service station sandwich. Then back on track covered in crumbs.

I am on my way to the WA Wheatbelt for a couple of nights of numbat spotting and woyley watching with my friend Elaine. Numbats are diurnal so it will be numbats by day and woylies through the night.

Arrive at camp and brush off the crumbs before making my home for the next two days. Spend the afternoon chatting and relaxing – the sun is shining.

Burn-off smoke hangs low and obscures the sun turning it red – the same red as the breast of the Scarlett-capped robin I sighted earlier. The robin had flitted into view tantalisingly close but not close enough to get with my big lens.

Ash falls like snowflakes onto our tents and rests on our sleeves before moving onto the next surface. The burn-off season is here. Ravens cry far off, and parrots squabble in the trees behind. The air is thick, so thick it tickles your throat. Still no numbats and no sign of echidnas. Do they really exist in WA?

A generator bursts into life, cutting through the silence like a message from home. Lawnmowers on a Sunday afternoon?

Day Two

Numbat safari – driving at snail’s pace, eyes scanning the bush on either side of the gravel road. Foot hovering over the brake pedal. Not sure what I am looking for, but I will know it when I see it. “There’s one!” I press the brake and glide to a halt. 5 km/hour, hardly the stuff of screeching halts.

I fumble for my camera – lens cap off, turn on the camera. Numbat, small, striped and oh so delicate. I was expecting them to be bigger, but there it is, 20cm in length, mouth filled with leaf litter. She stops on top of a fallen log and looks around before scampering into the bush. My only photo shows a whisp of tail disappearing from view.

The second numbat and I am ready. Camera is on, lens cap is off and my finger is ready to focus and shoot. I capture her twice. Again, this one has leaves stuffed into her mouth and she poses for the camera and turns tail, stopping a short way away for a second shot, perfect camouflage.

Satisfied we complete the remaining 10 km of the 23km circuit slowly but not as slowly as the first half.

Back at camp, hail falls as the clouds charge overhead, black and looming, carrying fresh ice and fresh wind across the treetops and over the campsite below – our temporary home with plastic for walls and foldable furniture inside. Camping lacks substance but is substantially satisfying.

Another layer of clothing to warm against the impending weather. Will my tent leak?

Campers arrive and set up their temporary homes. Click clack, ladders up to houses atop cars. Chairs released from their bags, ready to receive bodies tired from travelling. Most people keep to themselves.

So still, now the storm has passed, and the local birds emerge to peck at the bark and retrieve grubs. Small birds, flittery and fast. Stop still while I press the shutter – click whir – got you, little one.

Camp food – always the simplest ingredients that taste the best. Salad and roast veg – leftovers from last night’s cook-up on the coals. Pumpkin sliced and placed on freshly warmed wraps. Cheese, pickled onion, salad and Japanese mayonnaise. A sprinkle of sea salt with pepper berry from Tasmania and a scattering of fine black pepper – Saxa. Balsamic glaze to finish off this fine meal. I could live on wraps (and service station sandwiches).

Still no echidna despite my scanning the land for the tell-tale round forms moving back and forth. Waddling awkwardly on clawed feet that extend sideways from prickly, furry bodies with a strange bill not unlike a bird’s beak. They freeze when discovered and bury their beaks into the earth not unlike a 3-year-old child hiding behind her hands “I can’t see you!” Echidna where are you?

A nocturnal tour of Barna Mia. Red torches so as not to harm their eyes. Small hopping marsupials, some that no longer exist in the wild, surround us. Cheeky possums (hardly endangered) join in and feast on chopped fruit. Families of restless children surround the animals preventing the shy Bilby from appearing. A glimpse of her from behind, big ears and a fluffy tail – like the Easter bunny – elusive. Then gasps as travelling “stars” appeared to cross the nightsky in a row. False alarm it was only Elon Musk.

The next morning is so cold it’s hard to get out of bed. Birds everywhere – the sudden appearance of the Rufus tree-creeper – a menacing name but they look so fluffy and sweet-natured. Little fat feathery bodies topped with small sharp beaks and soft brown eyes. They sit on damp logs absorbing the sun and occasionally pecking at bugs. They creep up the tree trunks just like their name suggests.

Pardalotes, Scarlett capped Robins, Djidi Djidis, Wattle birds and Shelduck swoop through camp posing left right and behind – cheeky glances over their shoulders.

Packing up under the threat of a looming shower. Neatly folded chairs, tables and tents slide into spaces and bags not made for the return of their occupants. Doors slam and hold everything in for the trip home. Fire extinguished to prevent the spread and firewood abandoned for the next inhabitants.

A fulfilling two days. Now, where is the closest service station?

A version of this post has been published on the We Are Explorers website.

What’s the skinny?

Egg sandwiches are best when made with soft white bread and lots of mayonaise (imho)
Dryandra Woodlands National Park is 175 km (two hours + 10 minutes) from Perth.
The camping is a first come first served basis. No booking
There are two main camp grounds – Congelin and Gnarla Mia
Take everything you need including water – no potable water is available at campsites
Lions Dryandra Woodlands Village is an ex-forest department settlement for logging families. Cabins and dorm style accomodation can be booked online.
Numbats are diurnal – they come out during the day.
Barna Mia Nocturnal Nocturnal Wildlife Experience is well worth a visit. Bookings before you leave Perth recommended.
Mobile coverage is hit and miss – download maps before you leave Perth.
The nearest town is Narrogin – 40 km away
The wilman Noongar people are the original inhabitants of this land.

Top Water Activities in Perth to Try Today

My top 5 things to do in the water include floating on an air mattress, snorkeling and drinking cocktails.

Updated January 2025

Once a month, Stand Up Paddle WA (SUPWA) holds a Paddle Loop on a quiet stretch of the Derbarl Yerrigan (Swan River) about 20 km from the city centre. A Paddle Loop is a self-motivated paddle where you nominate the time you think it will take to paddle either 2km or 4 km – the aim, is to get as close to your nominated time as possible. I like to do it because it pushes me to paddle faster than I would if left to my own devices, tootling along gazing at wildlife, and I get to catch up with paddlers from other parts of Perth.

Last Sunday the water was flat as flat and the breeze non existent AND I was on my new you-beaut board so I should have been faster than I was. It was one of those days and where energy reserves were low and a bit of a sore back held me back. The first prize is a pineapple, and yesterday I won the pineapple for the 4km – certainly not because I was the fastest in the field. Lucky I love pineapples!

In the beginning

Standup paddle boarding has been at the core of my life for about five years. See what I did there?

I love the water, be it fresh, salty, or in between. Being in and around the water is my happy place, and I worked my way through the whole gamut of floating and paddling devices before settling on my current ride, the stand up paddle board.

Lay Low on a Lilo

It all started with a lilo. Those people not from Tasmania might wonder what the heck I am on about. The lilo was what we slept on when we went camping and then floated in the dam or creek when we weren’t sleeping. An air mattress – to the uninitiated. They were always dark blue and red in colour and the pillow was a separate chamber. We never had fancy foot pumps when we were kids; the lilo was blown up with your mouth with pauses for the dizziness to pass when you had blown out one too many times without inhaling.

The smell of a lilo was the smell of rubber and canvas – such a nostalgic stench. I remember standing on the banks of a river with the lilo firmly gripped in my fists, holding the plugs in place. Then taking a deep breath because I knew it was going to be bloody cold and slamming my stomach into the soft air cushion. “Phwoomp” and the mattress would partially submerge causing a sharp intake of breath and the inevitable squeal. The plugs, if you didn’t hold them in would sometimes expel with the force of the water, and down you would go.

Floating on a lilo is still on my list of top 5 things to do in the water. These days I use one of those flocked air mattresses that display a warning “This is not to be used as a floatation device.” Why not? It floats, and it’s comfortable.

The lilo was proceeded by several homemade structures we called rafts as kids. Sticks, floating containers, and a shit load of string. Most got us out into the middle of a dam or a creek and then slowly started to submerge.

Canoeing and surfing (in the wind and not)

I tried Canadian canoes – hired for a weekend of river exploration in my 20s. Bulky and hard to manage, but a good ride nonetheless.

I dabbled in windsurfing – only to find that getting it up was one thing, keeping it up and moving forward was another. Seeing as I learned to windsurf in Darwin Harbour, the thought of being taken and rolled by a saltwater croc kept me firmly glued to the board. Not to mention the box jellyfish that could seriously zap you during the wet season.

The only other water sport I attempted in the top end was a pumped up inner tube cast into the tumbling waters of the creek nicknamed “Tumbling Waters” about 40 km down the track from Darwin. The whole of Darwin converged on the creek at the beginning of the wet season when waters were high. Highly dangerous but so much fun!

My arrival in Perth some years later had me hankering to surf. My newfound friends all surfed, and “How hard could it be?” Super hard, it turned out. My attempts at body surfing ended with some hard knocks and a lot of sand in my knickers. Big waves were not for me. Riding a board on top of big waves proved too much for this Tassie girl from the bush.

I’d rather be sailing

I made some different friends – Uni students who lived in a share house in Nedlands. One of the guys had a Hobie cat that we would take out on the river on Sundays, next to the old brewery before it became swanky apartments and expensive dining establishments. The Cat had a trapeze and we would get up to speed before hanging ourselves off the side – I loved those days. Floundering around in the water avoiding the brown Swan River jellyfish and having absolutely no knowledge that bull sharks even existed!

Row row row your boat

Rowing found me (or I found it) when my own kids were teenagers. I answered an ad for “learn to row in 8 sessions” at the local rowing club, where we were taught how to scull and received a lot of shouted instructions from the shore. Six months in, and I was the fittest I had ever been. Up at 4:30 am three mornings a week. A gruelling training timetable that included running, cycling, and rowing in order to compete at a state level. Strangely, the shouting never stopped. I loved it while I was doing it, and it took me all around the state but one can only handle being shouted at and living the life of an (elite?) athlete for so long.

Kayaking (or birdwatching)

I left rowing and took up kayaking – the dark side (according to my rowing buddies). Kayaking was a more leisurely pursuit when I could take my camera and do bird-watching. I found kayaks hard to load by myself, and the seats were not good for my lower back, so I slowly stopped carting the bulky craft to the river. They occasionally came camping with us to Lane Pool – a lot of work for 30 minutes of paddling.

Standup Paddleboarding

I was without flotation devices for some time, and at the end of my long-distance running obsession that ended following a back injury that just wouldn’t go away, when a friend talked me into going standup paddling with her. She had a spare board, and I am always game for anything. A couple of sessions and I was hooked. The boards were easy to load on my own, reasonably priced, and standing to paddle did my lower back a world of good. Not to mention the core that everyone needs to mention when you say you are going SUP-ing.

I enrolled in some classes, and before too long, I was doing some fancy footwork and hardly falling in. I have now just acquired my third (or is it my fourth board? – a Red Equipment 13’2″ Voyager inflatable touring board. I love that I can cruise quietly along the river and still watch birds, or I can go fast and compete with other paddlers in the growing number of events available to standup paddlers. And my core? Well, let’s just say I can crack walnuts.

My top 5 things to do in water (in no order)

1. Float in the ocean sans device

2. Float on a lilo – in any type of water

3. Paddleboard

4. Drink cocktails

5. Snorkel

What’s the skinny?

Standup Paddleboarding is very popular in Perth. There are many suitable locations and groups to join.
Standup Paddle WA hold a paddle loop every month at Ascot Kayak Club – see page for details.
If you don’t have a paddle board there are a number of places you can hire one or grab a lesson: Suptonic Australia, SUP Central WA, Soulkite, Funcats Perth SUP School (some places may close for winter).
It is advisable to have a lesson or two to ensure you have the right technique.
Despite the cold, Winter is the best time to be out on the water

All in A Day #6 Lane Pool Reserve Camping

When bookclub decided to go bush we didn’t expect to be treated to Mother Nature at her most rock n roll.

March 2023

All in a Day #6 could be more aptly titled “All in a Night” but to maintain continuity the title remains!

“It’s not going to rain much,” – were the words I heard just before I rolled over to go to sleep on night two of our bookclub camping trip.

The day had been idyllic. We woke that morning to the sounds of Currawongs, Ravens, Kookaburras and black cockatoos, while the soft rays of sunshine filtered through the Jarrah forest onto our tents at Charlies Flat in Lane Pool Reserve. After a hearty cooked breakfast of scrambled eggs (the best Doci had ever had!) mushrooms and tomatoes washed down with lashings of coffee and tea, we decided on a walk and a swim.

Doci and I set off to walk to Island Pool while the others opted to drive. Island Pool, about 1.5 km from our camp spot at Charlies Flat, is the widest expanse of water in the currently still Murray River. It is a popular swimming spot with deep clear water and rocks for basking upon. There is a small island of rocks in the centre, hence the name.

Doci and I first heard the rumbles of far-off thunder while walking and decided that it didn’t seem close enough to be of concern. The clouds had cleared and there seemed to enough blue sky for us to assume that all was going to be well weather-wise, that and Doci’s bones said it was not going to rain. Little did we know that Mother Nature was merely sound-checking for the main event!

We floated in the not too cold waters of Island Pool for about half an hour – waiting for our fingers and toes to take on wrinkled “granny hands” and for the peaceful surroundings to sooth our bones and minds. Water is certainly the great healer.

The remainder of the day was punctuated by rumblings and we had the occasional discussion that rain might ensue, but not enough to stop us from heading for another welcome dip closer to camp after lunch and a small glass of bubbly! The five of us set off for the river with pool toys and a blow up mattress and slipped into the cool waters for a second swim. Our swimming souls sated we headed back for more snacks and further alcoholic offerings – after all being outdoors makes you ravenous (and thirsty)!

Snack time merged into dinner time where we all ate our body weight in cheese and nibblies and enjoyed the sounds of the evening. The sounds we had heard the night before and thought to be recalitrant birds was actually microbats – so we recorded their high pitched sounds for future reference.

It was starting to get dark when we decided the rumblings were closer and the sky looked slightly more ominous than before. We had a discussion about whether or not we should batten down the hatches or not worry too much. It was Elaine who said “Imagine how we would feel if we did nothing and the storms took us by surprise” .” So we sprang into action. It should be mentioned at this point that we had no phone coverage so we were very much relying on Doci’s bones and the general vibe of the atmosphere to accurately predict the weather.

Doci’s bones were still communicating with her and she assured us that she didn’t think anything major was going to occur weather-wise. We decided to err on the side of caution and scurried about putting things away and making sure that everything was out of the weather.

The thunder and now lightning was circling ever closer as we played a game of Bananagrams and had final drinks before bed. A spot and then another spot gave us reason to congratulate ourselves on our timely battening down of hatches. I was the first to go and tuck myself into my tent and I listened to the drops increase to a pattering and the voices of the others still discussing the likelihood of us being washed away.

Doci’s words “It’s not going to rain much” were still ringing in my ears when I woke to what can only be described as a surround sound vortex of continuous rumbling circling above our camp site punctuated by lightning flashes and, by this stage, torrential rain.

To say I felt vulnerable is an understatement – protected by a couple of millimetres of tent fabric and the massive trees looming above me, I asked that Mother Nature at least be kind and if I were to be struck by lightning, make it fast and painless. Needing to pee added to the anxiety – nothing like the sound of flowing water to make that thought never leave your head!

I hoped everyone else was faring ok – Jill in her swag, Nat in her newly purchased Aldi tent, Doci snug in her Getz and Lainey up in her roof top tent (closer than all of us to the elements). I lay there watching the lightning and made up my mind that it was sheet lightning and not the dangerous forked variety. I am not sure if that made me feel better, or if sheet lightning is indeed the safer version of its cousin, forked but I did eventually drift off to sleep only to start dreaming about forked lightning, and once again woke with a start!

I don’t think I have ever experienced such a storm like that before. The rumbling didn’t stop. I can only liken it to a surround sound speaker system where the sound moved from left to right. Nature at its finest and most awesome (in the true sense of the word).

Needless to say we all survived the night – everyone emerged from their respective accomodations with wonder and awe in their voices and a different perspective and personal experience. Everyone’s tents held up under the heavy rain and our battening down of hatches was welcomed as most of our belonging were dry and protected during the night.

We returned to the city where it still appeared to be dry and storms had not happened with the same magnitude that we we expereinced. When describing the night to my family that night I realised that you really had to be there to even fathom what it felt like to be an insignificant dot in the universe while nature raged and rumbled above.

The five of us will never forget the night nature turned it on.

What’s the skinny?

Lane Poole Reserve is in Dwellingup – One hour + 20 minutes (114 Km) from Perth.
Camping must be booked ahead of time for most camp areas.
There are 50 000 acres to explore – for hiking, mountain biking, horse riding or kayaking.
Take everything you need including potable water.
Always check before lighting a fire – fire restrictions apply.
Mobile coverage is hit and miss. Download maps before leaving Perth.
The closest town is Dwellingup

Vale Muesli Aristotle the axolotl

Muesli the axolotl is survived by Napolean (her daughter) and hundreds of babies (location unknown)

“Hello, do you have any axolotls?” It was my fifth phone call to one of many petshops in Perth and this one bore fruit!

“Yes, we have an albino and she has only just come in” replied the petshop attendant.

“I will take her!” I screamed, “Can I pay by credit card?”

Muesli Aristotl the albino axolotl moved into the Year 5 classroom at Quintilian Primary school on the 23 February, 2015. Her pink fins and translucent flesh endeared her to most and disgusted some. She was named by the children – a double barrel name because we couldn’t just settle on one! We were not sure of her age or origin but guessed that she could have been anywhere from 3- 5 years old.

Over the years Muesli followed me from class to class. In each class the children would learn how to clean the tank and take turns to feed her. We would produce axolotl fact sheets in writing and kids would draw pictures of her for art classes. Every school holidays she would come home with me to dwell in peace for a few weeks. Occasionally she would go to someone’s house when I went away.

One school holidays in 2017 I decided she needed a friend and Hahn the male axolotl arrived to wreak havoc – babies were produced in their hundreds – You can read the story of Hahn and Muesli in Readers Digest “A Whole Lotl Love” – published in 2022. The axolotl story was also told at Barefaced Stories in Perth a couple of years before (see link on my website).

When I left the primary school there was no option but to take her with me – no one was keen to take on axolotl parenting. Muesli and Napolean (Muesli’s daughter who was taken on by another teacher before she left to sail around Australia) have spent the last couple of years living in luxury – befitting of a grand dame of the axolotl family. A massive tank and all the frozen shrimp she wanted.

I noted that she hadn’t been eating very well over the past few weeks and her previously beautiful fins had become short and stumpy. I figured she is probably eleven plus years old and was drawing to the end of her days. This morning I scooped her from the tank and I swear she had a smile on her face!

Napoleon now has full range of the huge tank and will probably go on to live a ripe old age. Thanks Muesli Aristotle the Albino Axolotl for all the stories you spawned (and the babies!) and for the joy you brought to many!

All in a Day #5 Nannup Music Festival

When festivals all but ground to a halt in 2021 and 2022 there was a part of me that wondered if we would ever return to normal. 2023 has rolled around and festivals are back!

Nannup Music Festival 2023 – Festivals are back! March 2023

Festival companions: Anthony, Elaine, Leanne & Helen

Nannup Music Festival is an annual tradition – the music festival falls on the long weekend in March at the start of Autumn. It’s that time of the year when the sun keeps shining, and the humidity is hanging around, making everything and every one slightly sweaty.

I have been going to Nannup Music Festival for many years with a group of friends who camp together on the banks of the basking Blackwood River, just a short walk to the heart of the festival. We usually volunteer (well, some of us do) and get free entry to the festival. The last time I volunteered it was as the bus driver – I circled Nannup in a mini bus until the late night hours!

This year was the first festival to be held in two years. Last year the festival was cancelled due to Covid restrictions, but we went and camped sans music. But in 2023, it was back on, and we were pretty excited to be there!

Nannup is a beautiful town set in the forest about 3.5 hours from Perth. The town hosts the music festival like a well-oiled machine. The pub is open to everyone, even if you don’t have a ticket. The other venues require you to have a festival ticket.

You can wander at will and enter any venue with the volunteer or ticket wristband. The locals turn it on for the 4000 festival goers as they churn out marron pies from the bakery, beers, and counter meals at the pub, and even hold a Saturday morning market at the local chapel.

This year we volunteered behind the bar. We had applied for our RSAs (Responsible Serving of Alcohol) online the year before, so we were ready to pour beer and make idle conversation with punters. The bars are situated in most venues inside a gated area. The drinks selection is simple and easy to serve – no fancy cocktails or difficult requests.

So, let’s start at the beginning… Saturday

We had arrived the evening before (some of us a night before that) and set up tents, pop-top sleepers, chairs, and camping paraphernalia. The banks of the Blackwood in March are still lush, and the water throws up reflections of trees.

One tree, in particular, sits opposite our site – its roots cling tenuously to the bank. Every year there seems to be more soil washed out. The teens love to swing from the rope attached to a high branch. The more daring climb to the top and bommie down into the water – depth unknown. While we sit on the bank, peering through fingers not wanting to watch.

We awoke to the sound of cackling Kookaburras at dawn. So first up, put on the coffee pot and the kettle for tea. We slowly rose, groaned, and stretched as we waited for coffee or toast to cook. It was Leanne’s 60th birthday, so we had planned to give her a surprise lunch at midday.

We checked our programs for the music we would like to see/hear, and Anthony, Leanne and I set out for an early show while others lingered to set up the table with tasty treats and cake. We started our Saturday music feast with a band at the Amphitheater – a lovely way to ease ourselves into the festival.

Coffees in hand, we sat in the shade close to the stage. Once the band finished, we meandered back to the camp browsing the stalls for trinkets and clothing we didn’t require. I stopped and booked a reflexology session with a good friend set up in the trees. Sunday 10:00 am for a relaxing foot massage –I will need one by then!

Back at camp, the others have put out boards with a delicious selection of cheeses and dips, fresh tomatoes from the markets, and a cake purchased in Perth. We popped a Prosecco and settled in for a feast, conscious that we had a bar shift looming at 2:30 pm. Birthday gifts were exchanged, and birthday songs were sung before we decided to rest briefly before our shift started. Chairs, akimbo, and mattresses aloft, we surrendered to the location.

Much discussion was generated around the colour of this year’s volunteer attire. The shirt was an insipid cream colour that we decided was oatmeal (after photographing it and using Google Lens). The last time we volunteered, the shirts were black – way more rock and roll!

2:15 rolled around quicker than we expected, so we quickly donned our oatmeal and set off for volunteer central to sign on for our shifts and pick up our lanyards. I had never volunteered behind the bar – despite being a bar chick in my 20s for many years. Just like riding a bike, I decided. I had a shift at the Tigerville bar while Leanne and Elaine headed for the Amphitheater.

The shift was fun, with some great bands backgrounding the session. Taking money, popping cans, and chatting to happy festivalgoers was easy. Most people came and thanked us for volunteering, and the locals were very appreciative. Before I knew it, my first shift was over, and we headed back to camp for a cold beer and feet up before dinner.

Everyone converged on camp simultaneously, where we shared our various afternoon experiences. Those who didn’t volunteer had been out seeing bands, while the bar tenders had tales of beer cans and bluster. Everyone was hungry and ready for dinner from the food trucks on the festival grounds. We ripped off the oatmeal shirts and dressed in warmer clothing as the weather had cooled considerably since the afternoon.

We had dinner of Nasi Goreng from the Indonesian truck and consulted our band schedules as we made plans to enjoy a couple of hours of music and entertainment. Most of us were tired, but we stayed up until 10:00 pm (not a bad effort!)

Helen wanted to linger and see Liz Stringer at 10:30, but we decided it was too late, so we left her to see Liz alone and made our way back under the bridge to our campsite. There was laughter and banter as we slipped and tripped on the gravel path, trudged through the clean river sand, and tramped across the boardwalk.

A final glass of wine back at camp, as a nightcap, had us falling into our tents. As I jammed my earplugs in and drifted off to the muted sounds of music and laughing campmates, I was filled with anticipation for the following day. Nannup never disappoints.

and a poem to end…

Raising the Bar – a bar vollies lot.

JUICY is my pale ale
can I have two on card please?
I bought some Harry Angus merch
Can you help me find my CD s?
Sparkling wine and bundy rum
Can I have a stubby holder for free ?
Give me a can of your crappiest beer
It’s for my mate, not me!
SSB by the bottle and keep cups filmed with dust
I want some bottled water please
Security guards look nonplussed
Managers are AWOL
Can i take your all your fifties?
Open the till hand over cash
Just press down one of the shift keys
Before we know it the bar is closed
Wine and beer to pack and stack
Off with the oatmeal vollie shirt
Next year we’ll be back!

What’s the skinny?

Nannup is about 3.5 hours from Perth
The town of Nannup hosts the Nannup Music Festival every year in March 1 – 4
The camping grounds for the festival are situated on the town golf course
Riverbend Caravan Park (where we camp) requires a booking 12 months ahead
The Blackwood River is usually very still at this time of the year.
The nearby Barrabup pool is a forest pool not far from Nannup and the perfect place to cool down in Summer.
Volunteers can register interest from October each year. There are many roles you can apply for including bar work, set up, rubbish collection and ticketing.

All in a Day #4 A Day in The Life of a Freelancer

Finding time to blog in 2023 is not proving as easy as I thought! This is a day in the life…

February 2023

Making time to journal or document your life is tricky when life gets busy. Unfortunately, I was lulled into the post-summer holiday’s false sense of “I have all the time in the world” earlier this month, and now I don’t have time to scratch myself.

So here goes #4 – A typical freelance writing work day.

6:00 am – up with the birds

I wake with the sun and the sound of chattering lorikeets in the trees outside my bedroom window – it’s usually 6:00 am (or earlier). As I drag myself from bed I grab some items off the bedside table – phone, glasses, and watch, always with good intentions of going for a brisk walk, a paddle, or a pilates class. Sometimes not one of those options occurs. Scooping a pair of lycra leggings from the floordrobe, I hop across to the bathroom battling gravity and the slight vertigo of getting up too quickly.

A quick check of my notifications, hoping to intercept a fantastic job offer where I can write for an hour and get paid enough to get me through to next month. No, just the usual Substack updates from writers like me who write for money but like to write for no other reason than they like to write.

There is the occasional LinkedIn notification pleading with me to go “pro” again, teasing me with “someone has viewed your profile.” I know from past experience that the only people who view my profile are writers like myself who are curious about what I do. Don’t get me wrong, I have great connections through LinkedIn, and most of them bear fruit. Not this morning, however.

Somewhere between pulling on my Asics and reaching for a water bottle, my notifications ping. Once again, I am swept up in checking the latest headlines and finishing the Wordle for the day. Today is going to be the day I get it in two! Yeah right. What sort of a word is “usage”?

6:15 am – bothering the wildlife

Out the front door and down the path to the park for exercise, deep thinking, and communing with nature. I also check on the wildlife around the lake. Unfortunately, botulism has reared its ugly head, and water birds are prone to this paralysing disease during the Summer months – fortunately, fluids and a stopover in the wildlife hospital can have them back on their feet. So I am now the weirdo walking up to ducks and asking, “are you ok?’ before scaring them into entering the water. (If they can get up, they are usually fine).

After three laps of the lake and much scrutiny of feathered friends, I am ready to return for coffee, breakfast, and work. I always set myself a time to start and get ready for work like I would if I went to an office, without the crazy peak hour traffic, school drop-offs and corporate clothing (shorts and tshirt do perfectly thank you!) I do miss my morning drive with a podcast, though, so sometimes I put one while eating breakfast, for old-time’s sake.

8:30 am – work meeting (with myself)

If it’s Monday, I start with a work meeting – me, myself, and I. We draw up a list of outstanding things from the previous week and list all those items we need to do this week. I make sure we all get to have our say, and then we delegate tasks. My blog is an item that gets carried over and over until now! Chasing up accounts is another – why can’t people pay their bills?

8:45 am I open my computer, log in to Google and check my emails. I have requests for social media posts, a start-up’s web content, and a Capability Statement brief. Once I have worked out my priorities, I get started. Social media posts are usually pretty quick; I have those finished in an hour. Then, I put them aside for a final read later in the day. A bunch of web content for a start-up – 50% of my time is spent researching and working out what I am supposed to be writing about.

12:00 – 1:30 – break time

Lunchtime arrives (anytime between 11:30 and 1:30), and I stop. Sometimes I will get in the car, drive to the beach, and float in the ocean for 30 minutes (yes, I time myself); it’s cheaper than paying $150 to float in a tank with woo-woo music filling my ears. Sometimes I jump on my ebike and go for a spin – cool breeze in my hair and all that. Sometimes I turn on the TV and watch a doco to switch off my writing brain. Nothing like the dulcet tones of David Attenborough to soothe the thought process. Of course, I also eat during this time!

1:30 pm – more work

Back to work – I always feel refreshed after my lunch break and I am ready to tackle the Capability Statement (yeah, I had to ask what one of those was, too!); it’s a trumped-up version of a profile. I sweat my way through the statement and then have a reread of any work I have completed during the day. I send any finished work to clients with an internal sigh of relief and then commence to second guess my writing ability – imposter syndrome is real.

4:00 pm – imposter syndrome kicks in

4:00pm rolls around, and I start thinking about finishing up. I go back and check what I have already sent once more and cringe inwardly as I pick up sentences that could sound better – or could they? Finally, I let it go and leave the computer for another day. I check the pilates app to see if I can squeeze in a class – BINGO; there is a space.

5:00 pilates and chill

Heading back from pilates feeling stretched and aligned on my ebike, I do another lap of Hyde Park Lake and bother the ducks again. If I have my camera, I will stop and take some snaps. Like, I need any more bird photos on my computer! Sometimes I chance bumping into my family and stop for granddaughter cuddles and family gossip.

Home for chores – taking in the washing, emptying the dishwasher, feeding the bird, and checking on the axolotls’ tank. If my partner is home, he will probably cook dinner; if he is away, I have eggs on toast. Time for some TV and then bed, where I attempt to read another two pages of my current novel. It’s two steps forward, one step back, I’m afraid. I feel my new year’s resolution to read more books slipping through my fingers like sand at the beach at lunchtime.

Most workdays go like this – except when I am teaching small people, but that’s a whole other story!!

What’s the skinny?

Freelance writing can be very rewarding.
Australian Writers Centre hold courses for freelance copywriters, feature writers and travel writing – I did my courses with AWC but I am not affiliated with them or being paid to promote their courses.
If you like the idea of being your own boss and working from home this could be the career for you.
There is a lot of self-motivation required and some days are slow.
People will pay you to write for them because not everyone can write.

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