Woog Soup

To me there is nothing more iconic than the great Australian Beach Holiday. It is the one holiday that I insist on every January. The three men fold always bitch and moan about it but I hold my finger up in silence.

I am the fucking boss and you will do as I say.

And of course when we arrive at the beach everyone is all like “This is awesome!” and I am all like….. eyeroll.

Current conditions are perfect for ocean swimming, which is my absolute favourite thing to do. To say “ocean swimming” is probably a bit of a stretch and conjures up images on me doing laps of a bay 100 metres out whereas reality I am clinging to a boogie board squealing. It is terrifying and invigorating and leaves me both joyful and breathless.

But something has changed in me this week. I am making that ocean my bitch. Usually when a wave would come rumbling towards me, I would scream and panic. But not now. I am not sure what has changed but now, when that wave presents itself, I am all like “BRING IT ON” and race towards it, much like William Wallace would have done back in the day.

The ocean has also bought out a certain competitiveness in our family. Whoever can catch the wave in the furthest, wins. They are all bodysurfers, and I am on the Boogie Board and I lose. All the time. Things had gotten even more difficult as the elastic in my tankini bottoms has gone to seed, so I had to retire from competition due to ongoing wardrobe malfunctions.

Nobody needs to see my bare ass.

The days are drifting away and we are not sure what day it is, but a swim in the morning followed by a bit of tennis, lunch, nap then back to the beach, well rinse and repeat I say.

Also, we are in Noosha, which is giving me exceptional people watching opportunities. Like, I think I have my next book written. If you want to see a hundred toddlers losing their shit at the same time due to being tired, get yourself down to Main Beach at about 11.30am. Spectacular scenery.

You at the beach still?

Or has regular programming resumed…