Moomba and the Birdman Rally

It’s March again and so once more we welcome the Moomba festival to the banks of the Yarra River in Melbourne. Celebrated as part of the March Labour Day weekend, the Moomba festival is now in its 60th year, having started in response to Queen Elizabeth II’s first visit to Melbourne in 1954. Moomba, loosely translated as “let’s get together and have fun” is lauded as a ‘festival for the people’. Continue reading “Moomba and the Birdman Rally”

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In and Around: Melbourne

Brighton Bathing Boxes

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When Mr Pine painted his house purple, he inspired all of his neighbours to follow suit and so the white houses on Vine Street each took on a colour of their own. Whilst Mr Pine and his Purple House may have been the creation of children’s author Leonard Kessler, there is something very similar to Vine Street right in Melbourne, Victoria Continue reading “In and Around: Melbourne”

The Yellow-Eye of the Penguin

I was perched down low, my body buffered by the wind when I first saw its black and white body roll in with the waves. It danced in the wash as it reached the sand, before looking around cautiously then chasseing through the seaweed and over the rocks away from me. I sat still with my camera, clicking furiously as it navigated the puddles to complete its evening repertoire. Over by my right shoulder, my husband caught sight of further members of the dance troupe, and shifted silently to get a better angle. Hidden from view, we both sat transfixed as we snapped at their tiny faces, eager to capture the brilliant yellow of their eyes. As the sun dulled in the sky, they waddled towards the bushes, unaware of their audience, the yellow strip around their eye now glowing in the dusk. Continue reading “The Yellow-Eye of the Penguin”

Summer Fun at Cape Bridgewater

The Australian salute. Only ever required on the odd occasion and almost always in the height of summer. A flick of the wrist – left, right, left – elbow held steady, ninety degrees to your face. Living in Australia, its instinctive, you don’t even realise you’re hand is raised and flapping. Sometimes its effective, but often it’s almost better to fly the white flag and head inside in defeat. Heading out on the seal walk in Cape Bridgewater I was in desperate need of one such flag. Perhaps one giant white flag would actually do the trick; take ‘em all on and wipe them out in one fell swoop just when they thought I had accepted defeat. My husband’s back had already lost the battle, his green jacket was now a hive of black. Our baby daughter strapped to his chest had been mummified; swaddled from head to foot lest their army would strike into her oft open mouth. Barely unable to keep pace with the two of them as they pushed through enemy lines, my arm was in overdrive, windscreen wipers for my face, but still they persisted. Cooped inside for days, I was desperate to get outside and do some sightseeing, but I hadn’t accounted for this;  Continue reading “Summer Fun at Cape Bridgewater”