My Tasmanian mini-stay was nice. It occurred about two months ago, but in a totally unrelated manner I seemed to branch off into a complete and utter careless state of mind soon after returning to my city...
But as I said Tassie was very nice. Nan and Pa were visited and much kissing and hugging ensued... the polaroid camera was pulled out and passed round... vintage secondhand stores were looted and breakfast houses were accommodating and fed us delicious things (Raspberry Farm pancakes - yes please). Mumma was so heavily pregnant and I felt lucky to witness her a week or so off D-day. It was also very nice to be mothered (talk about nesting mode) - I got my vans all muddy whilst trekking with my little brother and in the morning discovered them all cleaned and neat sitting by the front door. You don't take that sort of thing for granted after you've had to do it yourself so long!
As per the attached photographs, follow our doings: Much hiking of the country around Mum and Tom's little pocket of land with my brother (who may or may not know some of my deepest secrets as a result), markets, coffees, the exultant discovery of a beautiful vintage Olivetti portable typewriter in mint condition for a mere fifteen dollars, visits to Devonport and the Spirit (oh hello, The Spirit), absorbing the abuse of a six year old wench who wanted to use our playground equipment, blustery wind, sea spray and baby kicks.
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