Tag: freelance writing

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.

strawberry smoothie on glass jar

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?  

black and white blog business coffee

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.

All in a day #3 Hobart, Tasmania

Part 3 of “All in a day” takes me and two good friends to see the highs and more highs of Hobart town!

Hobart – the highs and the higher

January 2023

Travel companions: three enthusiastic Australians from the west

Our first morning in Hobart, Tasmania started like most days during our Tassie travels. Coffee and breakfast were on the agenda. We arrived in Hobart the previous day – all of us had met at MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) and ended our day with drinks at the Shamrock before sending Elaine on her way to help prepare for a wedding.

The previous morning, Leanne had enjoyed a delicious breakfast at the café down the road from our digs, Straight up. A vegetarian café with a delightful selection of vegetarian and vegan options and great coffee.

We were heading up the mountain that looms over Hobart town, kunanyi (Mt Wellington), that morning, so we headed to Straight Up for breakfast which was incredible. Some takeaway donuts were purchased for snacks should we get hungry during our mountain adventure!

 Kunanyi and its foothills are the traditional lands of the Muwinina people. It is situated on an 18,011-ha reserve on the doorstep of nipaluna, lutruwita. The mountain is 1270m high and features some fantastic dolerite rock formations and a range of alpine vegetation. Kunanyi has a range of walks and hikes suited to climbers of all experience levels. The truly fit (or truly crazy) cycle to the top and enjoy a downhill run.

We drove our car up. The mountain is very close to Hobart city centre, and it took us about 45 minutes to reach the top. We were treated with a clear view and completely still conditions. The last time I had summited Wellington, I was making snow angels, and it was the middle of winter. The locals say it is a mountain of many moods.

The infamous Tasman Bridge from the mountain

We took advantage of the ideal conditions, explored the boardwalks, and ventured part-way down the zig-zag trail to get some photos. Tourists in their droves took selfies and group photos from every vantage point. The quiet side of the mountain where the Zig Zag trail starts was the most peaceful part.

Up the mountain – Kunanyi

Photos snapped and views admired; we decided that a swim was in order (as you do when in Tassie and the temperature is over 23 degrees). We chose the shores of Sandy Bay under the shadow of Wrest Point Casino, Australia’s first casino.   Sandy Bay is a well-to-do suburb in Hobart, not far from the city centre, with beautiful beaches on the banks of the Derwent River.

Hardly the spot for nasty rips or dumpers but it was nice to know we were safe!

The surf lifesavers were set up on the beach, and the sun was shining, so we changed and plunged into the cool waters of the bay. Nice once you were in! The water was clear, and the bottom sandy like its namesake.

We devoured the delicious donuts from Straight Up. They were amazing, filled with chocolate, jam, and custard, and coated in sugar. Then, sand and sugar-coated, we showered in the freshwater showers, got dressed, and went to find a supermarket for our supplies back at the hostel were running low.

It’s a good time to talk about our digs. We decided to stay at the Pickled Frog, a backpackers in Liverpool Street. Leanne had booked the deluxe apartment, “Frog Apartment,” with her own kitchen, bathroom, and a chandelier! Wendy and I went for the shared room with the general hoi polloi. I am no stranger to backpacker accommodation, so I expected lots of young people and possible loud noise, which is pretty much what it was. However, it was okay for a few days and had us situated in the middle of Hobart, close to the restaurants and a walk from Salamanca Place.

Sleep was broken with comings and goings all hours of the night and day and alarms going off super early for those who lived and worked in Hobart. However, it was reasonably priced, and the people running the hostel were super friendly and helpful. I will also say, I am no stranger to broken sleep and noisy nights being a frequenter of music festivals – but maybe my youth hostel days are over?

We returned to the hostel for a rest before the evening plans for eating oysters and taking in the docks commenced. The previous night had been spent at a delicious Greek Restaurant, Mezethes Greek Taverna, in Salamanca Place. The staff really went out of their way to make us comfortable and welcome. The food was deluxe, and we started with a small portion of oysters.

So we decided that more oysters were in order – Mures on the docks was my choice for a seafood feast. The multi-award-winning Mures is a Tasmanian institution. The Mures have served quality fish for over 45 years from various locations around Hobart.  

The seafood did not disappoint. We washed down fresh oysters with Tasmanian beer and feasted on a shared seafood basket. The downstairs part of Mures, where we dined, is very casual, and the food is more suited to families and big gatherings. Whereas upstairs, the posh part of Mures serves seafood but in a more refined manner.    We finished our massive meal with huge scoops of ice cream from the ice creamery inside the restaurant.

With hunger sated (or over-sated), we started our stroll back to the hostel, only to discover a shindig in progress in the local park. An Irish-style folk band had the crowd dancing and clapping – Craicpot was their name, and Irish jigs were their game. After eating and drinking so much, a wee dance was just what we needed, so we stayed and jigged and clapped until the band finished their set.

The park was crowded with locals and visitors eating food from food trucks and enjoying a family picnic on the lawn. It was the perfect ending to a day with us up mountains, swimming in the waters, and eating ourselves silly. Finally, we headed for bed (and hopefully sleep!) to ready ourselves for a visit to Salamanca Markets in the morning. Goodnight Hobart!

What’s the skinny?

  • Hobart is the capital city of Tasmania
  • Hobart is a port City with a rich maritime history.
  • Salamanca Market is held every Saturday morning on the docks – well worth a visit.
  • Mures Seafood are stalwarts of the Hobart restaurant scene – fish, chips and oysters washed down with a cold beer is a must! Or you can go fancy and dine in the upper deck section (same fish but fancier)
  • Mt Wellington/ kunanyi looms over Hobart (1270 m) and is worth a visit any time of the year. Snow in winter if the road is open, and amazing vistas in Summer.
  • The Tasman Bridge is a magnificent bridge – cross it at least once!
  • MoMA is a must – you can catch a ferry across from the docks or drive and Park. David Walsh’s collection is ever changing and will have you questioning everything.

All in a day # 2 Myrtle Bank to Ansons Bay, Tasmania

Week 2 – All in a day 2023 – a roadtrip to the east coast of Tasmania

Tassie Roadtrip – Northeast to Ansons Bay January 2023

Travel companions: two enthusiastic travellers from the West

With Mt Barrow looming, we left Myrtle Bank in the Northeast of Tasmania/lutruwita for the East Coast – Tasmania’s Bay of Fires.  A convoy of two. Three adventurous women from Western Australia!

Ansons Bay, remote paradise (as the entrance sign declares) is on the Northeast coast of Tasmania.  The Bay of Fires, situated on the land of the Palawa people, was described as such by the early explorers when they arrived on Tasmania’s shores to see fires burning.  The eye-catching orange lichen that covers the coastal rocks in this part of the world contrasts directly with the wild blue seas and green coastal scrub.

Eddystone Point Lighthouse/lutruwita is the closest sentinel that keeps ships from the treacherous rocks of the area.  The lighthouse is just inside Mt. William National Park and is accessible by a gravel road.

Our first stop was Scottsdale – around 40 kilometres from Myrtle Bank.  Scottsdale is the small town where I went to high school, spent weekends with my best mate, and got up to all sorts of mischief—being an “out of towner,” I more often than not spent entire weekends in Scottsdale.

A stop in Scottsdale always entails a curly pasty at the Scottsdale Bakery, a browse in the op shops, and shopping for stores at Woollies. So, our op shop haul packed in the back, ice in the esky, food shopping done, and wine and beer purchased, we set off towards Derby, the mountain bike capital of Tasmania.

Derby was an ex-tin mining town with no future and cheap real estate before it became the darling of the Mountain Bike scene.  Tasmania now boasts world-class mountain bike tracks, and people come from all over the world to travel the trails.  It was here we used to go in the 80s to watch or compete in the Derby River derby – homemade craft set sail in the freezing waters over a weekend where Derby came to life for a moment only to go back into hibernation for the remaining 360 days of the year.

We stopped here for firewood and to call the Tasmanian Fire Department to get permission to light a fire on the block.  The town of Derby was buzzing with bikes and people.  A block in Derby that could be bought for next to nothing a decade or more ago now sells for six figures.

Gladstone, the last petrol station/shop/hotel before Ansons, was advertising a music festival that looked like it was heavy metal inclined for the coming Saturday night.  A mutual agreement to bypass this particular musical offering was made without any discussion required.

 The drive from Gladstone to Ansons Bay is via a gravel road and passes through some lush farming country where fresh-cut hay assaults the senses.  The occasional copse of bush punctuates the trip.  We had our eyes peeled for wombats and echidnas and were sad to observe roadkill that included wombats and Tasmanian Devils. 

After around 30 minutes, we crested the hill and entered Ansons Bay.  The view of the inlet and ocean beyond always takes my breath away.  The inlet on this day was dark blue, and the ocean aqua – remote paradise indeed!

My block is a bush block sitting on the hill overlooking the bay, a mere 100 metres from the bay.  Once the gate had been wrestled with, and we had given the caravan and shed annex a quick once over with the broom, we unpacked food, clothing, knitting, notebooks, novels, cameras, and games.

The beds could wait; it was time to go and check out the bay, where the local fishermen, pelicans, and dogs greeted us like long-lost friends. The water felt warm and was relatively clear, and the locals were curious.

“Where you from?”It seems everyone has a link to Western Australia, knows someone, or has lived there at some stage.

Our stroll took us past shacks and caravans of varying sizes – little, it seemed, had changed since my visit eight months earlier. Ansons Bay is like the holiday destination that time forgot.  Electricity is available, but some properties, including mine, are not hooked to the grid.  There is no petrol station, no shop and very little mobile coverage.  The telephone tower was placed tantalisingly close but not close enough.

The locals have signposted an area just before you head down the hill into the town named “connection cove,” where you can pull in to answer emails and messages and update your socials.  So close yet so far, and dare I say it – One Job!

We were feeling a bit warm, so we decided a swim was in order, and the nearby Policeman’s point was beckoning.  The road out to Policeman’s Point is gravel and takes you to the inlet, where the brackish waters of the bay meet the pounding waves of the Tasman Sea.  The tide was on its way out when we arrived at the popular camping site, exposing the vast sand flats, a popular fishing spot for campers and locals alike.

We immersed ourselves in the clear blue water, dodging blue bottles and rushing seaweed.  The water was deliciously cooling without being too cold. It massaged our skin and washed away a week of business and travel.  All that fresh air and salt water excited our senses, and suddenly all we could think of was nibbles and drinks.  So we started back for camp only to discover Elaine had lost her phone.  A trip back to the beach and the phone was right where she had dropped it!

The sun was still beating down at 5:00 pm, so we found some shade and set ourselves up with beers in hand and a tray full of delicious morsels. Never had anything tasted so good.

Even though it is nowhere near cool enough for a fire, we thought we should light one as we had permission to do so.  The fire crackled at a distance, and our senses were loaded with everything that is good and fine in a remote paradise.

A day to remember and one of many to come.

What’s the skinny?

  • Ansons Bay is situated on the “remote beaches” region of Tasmania in the North East.
  • If travelling from Launceston allow a good two hours and a couple of stops – 165 km.
  • One of those stops has to be the Scottsdale Bakery for curly pasties and scones. Supermarket shopping can also be done here.
  • Derby (Mountain bike capital of Tassie) is worth a stop to soak up the mountain biking vibe. The Blue Derby Mountain Bike Trail is world class.
  • Gladstone is the last petrol/booze stop before Ansons Bay where this are no shops and the Gladstone Hotel does a super counter meal.
  • Camping is only available in the designated camping area of Policeman’s Point (15 minutes drive from Ansons Bay) or further towards St Helens.
  • Check with the Fire Department before lighting fires.
  • Mt William National Park is accessible from Ansons Bay.
  • When driving at night slow down so as not to run over any wildlife.
  • Mobile coverage is sketchy – download any maps you might need.
  • You can use the telephone box situated next to the fire station to make free calls within Australia.