Last week, we moved home, and what with several days of lumping boxes around and a hiatus in our internet connection while Telstra pressed a few buttons at their secret underground mission control bunker, it’s been longer than usual since my last post.
It feels good to finally bid farewell to our rented accommodation. It served us well while we found our feet in Australia but there really is nothing like having a place to call your own and I’ve taken great delight this week in banging in nails, putting up shelves and drilling holes wherever I feel like.
The first night in our new home was an odd affair. For ages now, I’ve been promising Mini-CBRbound that we would camp out in the garden in a tent we bought some months ago. He rightly called me to account on my promise, saying that I kept putting it off and that winter would be here soon and then it would be a whole year before we could camp out. He’s very good at making the case for the prosecution – so much so that I agreed with him and said we’d do it that night, no more excuses.
So, there we were, in (or near) our new house, with Mrs and Maxi-CBRbound enjoying the view from within while Mini and I slept outside and listened to the crickets. It was a peaceful night and we managed to zip the fly-screen closed before any mosquitoes sneaked in with us. More than that, it was fun too.
Mini has just joined the Cub Scouts and loves this type of thing. “Can we tell ghost stories, Dad?” and “Can we cook breakfast on the barbecue like real campers”, and so on. He enjoyed it so much that the following night he did it again, this time on his own. Mrs CBRbound however, is less keen on the whole outdoors thing. She would potentially consider ‘glamping’ if it were on offer, but only if there were somewhere to plug a hairdryer in.
The combination of putting down roots but sleeping out under the stars was marvellous therapy. I’ve often thought about whether a camper-trailer would be a good and inexpensive way of seeing more of the Australia that lies beyond Canberra’s boundaries. Mini thinks this is an excellent idea. Mr Pup seems keen too, but Mrs CBRbound has taken to our new house a little too well and I fear we may have unwittingly established a template that will see Mrs and Maxi in a motel, with Mini and I at a campsite nearby.
Sleeping in the back garden is hardly going off grid, but for nine year-old Mini, this was an expedition into the wilderness, and he’s keen to go even farther afield next time – perhaps as far as the fence – before, eventually, braving the perilous dangers of an actual campsite sometime after the winter.
Say what you like about us Brits, but exploration is in our DNA.