So this morning I had to take all four children to Oscar’s speech lesson which was, you know, challenging.
And on the way home I stopped at the
only best Italian deli on the northern beaches for some Italian bread, ham, salami and the freshest, most divine ricotta.
The boys were good in there.
Then, on the way home, I came over all spontaneous. Perhaps it was the (at that stage unknown) arrival of George, who knows, but I found myself turning to head down the road to Longreef.
And there we roamed along the beach and across the rockpools for an hour and a half.
The sky was various shades of gray with ominous clouds and a biting wind.
The boys were in their element.
Old men mending a surf shed chuckled and nodded as we romped past.
“Getting out of the house then?”
Boys and men trotted past in wetsuits of various lengths with surfboards or bogeyboards under arm. They were
intent on killing themselves heading off the rock platform onto the breaking waves way out at sea off the headland, making the most of bigger seas due to the stormy weather we’ve been having*
Then home for fresh bread smeared with ricotta and draped with ham, or toasted and then topped with ricotta, a drizzle of honey and a smattering of cinnamon.
Now there’s tea and some of the lemon and raspberry yoghurt cake I made yesterday.
* I realise that the two may not be related at all.