It's winter in Australia and I'm just starting a two week break from teaching. The wind has been howling around the house for the last week or so and the nights have been icy cold. It hasn't snowed in Canberra where I live but thick snow is on the Brindabella Mountains to the south and that's where the wind comes from. We were planning to do a driving holiday to Adelaide--a two day trip-- and visit the wineries in the Barossa Valley but last week we looked at each other and said "not in this weather." Then we thought we'd do a short overnight jaunt to stay with friends in a country town about 3 hours away but again we looked at each other and shook our heads. Apathy has set in. Our house is snug and warm, we're more than happy to stay in and do things at home that need to be done --like organise our tax or rip up the hall carpet.
We might take a few days next week and visit our two children in Sydney. We might go for a drive in the area and have lunch in a nearby country town. Or we might not. I'm playing tennis this afternoon (played on Sunday in a very bracing 5 degrees Celsius) and I have my book group tonight. He's playing golf. It's supposed to crawl up to 13C today with a lessening wind and the sun is shining. We have a few walks planned--round Lake Burely Griffin in the centre of Canberra, up Mt Ainslie behind our suburb, across to the National Art Gallery. Our suburb of Campbell is central to all these attractions.
Holidaying at home has plenty of benefits--don't have to have a neighbour collect the mail, don't have to remember to cancel the milk and the paper. I did actually cancel the milk delivery in preparation for our Adelaide non-event but the Milko forgot, left the milk then knocked on the door to apologise when she realised we were at home. I think we must be one of the few areas that still has milk delivered.
And of course the greatest benefit is plenty of time to write!
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