I was smart to hook up with Mr Woog. 

Mainly because his aunty has a house on Great Mackerel Beach and is generous with the key.

To get there, you need to drive to Palm Beach and get a ferry across. You see, Mackerel Beach has not roads or cars. It is an isolated little piece of heaven. You have to take everything you might need.

I needed to take a mate to talk to, so the McDonalds joined us. BabyMac is just the person you need at your side while you sip champers into the afternoon while watching the kids frolic on the beach.

Later that evening, we both got a little toasted and watched the Eurovision “Song” Competition while doing some toasting on our own.

What more could a girl want?

We did a little fishing and Jack caught a strange creature and then another small fish. Harry was beside himself! And after hours, he triumphantly pulled a leather jacket from the depths of Pittwater and I could hear the squeals of delight from the house. Harry threw it back into the water and a stranger went up to him and shook his hand.

Right there. Manhood moment.

But the one thing I would change about the weekend would be my ambitious attempt at getting the kids to pack for themselves. I gave them both a list with 6 things on it. 

  1. Pair of Pjs
  2. 2 x undies
  3. Long sleeved top
  4. t-shirt
  5. 1 soft pant
  6. Jumper
They were clearly not ready for such responsibility, and Harry spent the weekend in his rugby gear which is what he had arrived in and Jack mainly got about in a pair of his brothers underpants which were far too big for him. Because the rest of his clothes got wet when he fell in the water.