A year today since we brought the boy home.
A year today since our lives in Melbourne truly began. Whilst in quarantine, we were on hold, existing between one painful visit and the next. Wishing the days away, counting down to get him back with us.
None the worse for his ordeal the boy has had a wonderful year. Romping on the dog beach, discovering he is a champion swimmer and the fastest boy on the sand and in the surf and quite the celebrity about town.
I have made some lovely friendships through him and he is a joy.
It's been a fab weekend.
Friday night out in the City with the lasses and a lazy Saturday followed.
After a night on the vino, only comfort food will do. Bangers and mash with onion gravy. Perfect.
On Sunday we headed to the Southbank in the City for the Dutch Orange Day Festival. Should have worn my orange jeans!
A band from Amsterdam were banging out Summer of 69 and Video Killed the Radio Star, folks were bopping between mouthfuls of syrupy profejtes and bottles of lager.
Then we had lunch on the Southbank at Breslin's. I opted for a simple eye fillet with olive oil mash and smoked tomato. Hubster went all cave man with the 1kg of pork barbecue ribs! He ate the whole blinking lot.
Even though the weather was dull, the City still looked beautiful and the vibe was buzzy and happy/relaxed in a Sunday afternoon way.
Hopping off the train, we both power walked home with only one thing on our minds; to get back to the boy and his enthusiastic full body wag welcome.
20 minutes playing ball in the garden, then a snooze en famille.
It's hardly rock and roll but we like it.
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