Christmas in August – Lunch Party
Since we missed Christmas in July because of our sick, sick baby (yeah, blame it on the kid!!), we tried to redeem ourselves and spent Sunday in lovely company… the starters are featured below. For mains we had Coq Au Vin and a bunch of delicious desserts to top it all off 
Week-end sur la Great Ocean Road: Whale watching
Ce week-end, direction Warrnambool, au bout de la Great Ocean Road (pas forcément great tout du long, mais certainement LONGUE…) afin d’assister à un spectacle magique, celui des baleines (Southern Right Whales).
This weekend, we head to Warrnambool, at the end of the Great Ocean Road (not great all along but certainly LONG…), for a magical whale (Southern Right Whales) watching experience.
Ces magnifiques cétacés d’une taille moyenne de 16m reviennent chaque année (juin-octobre) dans les eaux bordant Warrnambool à leur retour de l’Antarctique. Pesant aux alentours de 80 tonnes, elles ont des réserves pour affronter les eaux glaciales septentrionales!
These amazing cetaceans -16m long on average – come to Warrnambool every year (June-October) on their way back from Antarctica. Weighing approximately 80 tons, they have what it takes brave the icy cold waters.
Tout a été prévu pour admirer nos amies les baleines, comme une plate-forme accessible aux chaises roulantes : on a donc emmené le poussinet dans sa poussette, après cela a été au tour du sac à dos… bien plus marrant pour notre fan de sensations fortes, j’ai nommé môssieur E.
Every detail has been thought through so that tourists can fully enjoy the show: the platform is wheelchair accessible, and therefore we strapped the bubba in his stroller, and later on tried the backpack, which was way more fun for our adventurer, Mister E.
Au retour nous passons par les Otway Ranges, une forêt magnifique (parc national) qui change un peu des autres routes déjà empruntées en 2005. Cela faisait plus de 3 ans que nous n’étions pas venus par ici !
On our way back to Melbourne, we decide to go through the Otway Ranges, a magnificent forest and national park, which is a nice change from the other roads we already visited in 2005. It’d been a while since we last came!
Photos des baleines prises avec un plus gros appareil
Mémorable, la première soirée entre filles depuis que Bébé est né : quel bonheur que de respirer le bon air frais de Melbourne CBD sous la pluie mais on s’en fiche puisque l’alcool tient chaud et qu’il y a pléthore d’endroits où s’abriter… comme le superbe appart de Sam sur Flinders Lane (quand est-ce que j’emménage ?!?), le restaurant japonais Hako, ou encore Transit Hotel à Fed Square…
Merci les filles, vous êtes géniales !!
Old Australian Ways
by
A. B. “Banjo” Patterson
The London lights are far abeam
Behind a bank of cloud,
Along the shore the gaslights gleam,
The gale is piping loud;
And down the Channel, groping blind,
We drive her through the haze
Towards the land we left behind
The good old land of “never mind”,
And old Australian ways.
The narrow ways of English folk
Are not for such as we;
They bear the long-accustomed yoke
Of staid conservancy:
But all our roads are new and strange,
And through our blood there runs
The vagabonding love of change
That drove us westward of the range
And westward of the suns.
The city folk go to and fro
Behind a prison’s bars,
They never feel the breezes blow
And never see the stars;
They never hear in blossomed trees
The music low and sweet
Of wild birds making melodies,
Nor catch the little laughing breeze
That whispers in the wheat.
Our fathers came of roving stock
That could not fixed abide:
And we have followed field and flock
Since e’er we learnt to ride;
By miner’s camp and shearing shed,
In land of heat and drought,
We followed where our fortunes led,
With fortune always on ahead
And always further out.
The wind is in the barley-grass,
The wattles are in bloom;
The breezes greet us as they pass
With honey-sweet perfume;
The parakeets go screaming by
With flash of golden wing,
And from the swamp the wild-ducks cry
Their long-drawn note of revelry,
Rejoicing at the Spring.
So throw the weary pen aside
And let the papers rest,
For we must saddle up and ride
Towards the blue hill’s breast;
And we must travel far and fast
Across their rugged maze,
To find the Spring of Youth at last,
And call back from the buried past
The old Australian ways.
When Clancy took the drover’s track
In years of long ago,
He drifted to the outer back
Beyond the Overflow;
By rolling plain and rocky shelf,
With stockwhip in his hand,
He reached at last (oh lucky elf!)
The Town of Come-and-help-yourself
In Rough-and-ready Land.
And if it be that you would know
The tracks he used to ride,
Then you must saddle up and go
Beyond the Queensland side –
Beyond the reach of rule or law,
To ride the long day through,
In Nature’s homestead — filled with awe
You then might see what Clancy saw
And know what Clancy knew.
