Mini breaks, miraculous weather, and mad marsupials

The past few months I have really been spoiled rotten in terms of weekend locations. This past weekend was no exception. After a foul day at work on Friday (during which my colleagues discussed their um, preferences for the receptionist down the hall... for HOURS) I arrived at the ABC office to get a lift with a friend. Here I was mildly cheered by a young boy running up and informing me that there was face-painting on the floor above. He was decked out as a very overenthusiastic and slightly too orange lion. I was jealous.

Hopped in the car and headed south towards Jervis Bay. Currarong, our destination, is situated on the Northern headland that encircles the bay. Having seen the area before I was madly excited to be able to go back. The friends in question had purchased a small house a few years before, and utterly transformed it, from cabin to dream house, with the addition of a huge upper deck. From this, we could sit, huddled around a sizzling brazier, and watch the sunset with large glasses of wine. Strange though it sounds, it was lovely to know that it was properly cold, even by UK standards, and yet we were toasty warm.

The next day, after dropping in to the local Womens Association shop where they were all busy knitting away (socks, baby jumpers, and, rather bizarelly, ipad covers...) and complaining about the cold, we headed out on a bush walk around the headland. The sun was hot, but the pathway was unfortunately still completely flooded in places. Cue desperate attempts to swing over/squirm around the outside of the huge trenches of red, tea tree infused water that blocked our way. It was a great walk, and felt amazing to fully stretch the legs after weeks of non exercise. 

That evening we took deck chairs and a bottle of champagne down to the beach and watched the sunset. I was roundly derided for never having drunk champagne on a beach. C'mon guys, I am from London! It was a stunning sunset, prompting many many photos, only slightly marred when an overweight, middle aged lady came and started stretching out right in the middle of our view. Grr...

The following morning, shortly after dawn I was woken by a persistent cough outside the window. When it continued I tiptoed out to see what was going on. Ali was already awake and informed my of the presence of kangaroos at different ends of the house. Naturally, we somehow managed to get ourselves wedged between the two groups. There was a shaky moment when we had to edge back around the house, passing about a metre away from a large, unfriendly looking male. My God they get big! Retreating to the deck, we took up position to watch (and in my case play paparazzi).

Turns out the coughing is a way of the males stating they are annoyed with each other and would like to fight. After kicking away the youngster and female, they started feverishly playing with their balls (their own, not each others!) They then squared up and started to box. It was amazing. A few flying kicks. Circling. Bouncing. Suddenly it got halfhearted and they stopped, looking embarrassed. Evidently they had sensed they had spectators. Damn. It was truly magnificent though while it lasted!

After a large breakfast (featuring more champagne) we spent the morning at a different beach, this time looking over the lagoon rather than the ocean. The water was completely calm, with a yacht moored nearby, purely for photo ops, we decided. Passed a couple of hours lazing around and collecting shells before grumpily realising that it was time to head off, shake the sand from our feet, and troop back to Sydney. But not before some more food, and a little more champagne...!