Paradise ...

It all started out great.

Friday was one of those truly wonderful days - Nelle and I walked the trail around Point Lookout Headland, a high, winding path that looks straight down the east side of Stradbroke Island. The water's so blue you wonder what the hell you're doing living in the city, when places like this exist. We could see forever, see the waves rushing to shore, see a pod of 50 or more dolphins surfing below us. 

On the beach, later, we'd play in the sand together - building castles and decorating them with shells Nelle collected, one of which distracted her so much she was toppled by a rogue wave. Feet-over-head she went - convinced she would have been pulled straight out to sea ... were it not for Mummy saving her. 

(Who am I to argue that?)

Nelle's rendition of the incident

Alas, by Saturday morning, I was Google-searching things like:

'food poisoning symptoms'

'restless legs' 

'stomach flu'

which led me to some really interesting websites, of course, but didn't make me feel much better. In fact, nothing really did except sleep and ibuprofen and a fan blowing the mosquitoes off me and periodic sips of ginger beer. And I don't know if it was is the flu or that disgustingly-spoiled chestnut jam I ate on my toast on Thursday or what, but I never wanted to leave paradise so badly - come back to my own bed in my own house and eat my own plain biscuits and jelly snakes. 

And now we're home. Hellooooo plain pasta. Miso soup. Fizzy water.

And I can't be bothered downloading the actual dolphin-in-paradise photos, so you get Instagram instead. The dolphins - and recipes - will have to wait.
Night night.
Amanda xx