Home Again

We're back. And it was great.

We actually made it back to Sydney last Wednesday but, between a full day of washing, cleaning and grocery shopping and two games of football over the weekend, it might as well have been yesterday.

And, yes, Austin and I handled the boys-only trip back from Melbourne like a couple of seasoned professionals.

Our planned 900 kilometre journey became 1,162, and we twice broke the 'no longer than 1.5 hours without a break' rule; on one occasion pushing on for well over three without driver fatigue or a single scream from the back seat.

We learned that every town has a pub bistro and that each of these has a high chair. We learned that when it rains an information centre is the best substitute for a playground. They come with adoring elderly folk and an abundance of pamphlets for a young lad to redistribute.

We also learned an awful lot about Ned Kelly.

Most importantly, though, we learned that the Very Hungry Caterpillar never falls out of reach if you stuff his head under the strap of of the car seat.

And this keeps at least one little traveller at equilibrium.

To be honest, the all-family trip down the south coast had given me a few nerves. I'd done all the driving, while Kate had done a great job of keeping Austin amused.

How would he cope without all those smiles and tickles?

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. The lad did me proud. Sure there were a few grumbles in the last hour of the final day, but coming back into Sydney is always a hassle and I was as keen as him to get back to Rozelle.

And, almost a week later, it's finally starting to feel like old times.

Click here to view some photos of the trip.

Hitting The Right Note

The itinerary is finalised. The motels are booked. Other than wait for the road trip to come around, there's just one thing left to be done.

Compile the soundtrack. The perfect Monday afternoon project.

The reality is that we'll be hooking up the iPod and working our way through a whole bunch of albums and playlists. That said, there’s still room for a collection of tracks that symbolise and bring to life the geography, the emotion and the literal act of driving those 1,100km across Victoria and New South Wales.

And, of course, coming home to Kate.

Enough of the preamble. Here's how it's shaping up:

Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen
We gotta get out while we're young
Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run

Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
It's a town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win

I Get Around – The Beach Boys
I’m getting’ bugged driving up and down the same old strip
I gotta find a new place where the kids are hip

Roadrunner - The Modern Lovers
Going faster miles an hour
Gonna drive past the Stop 'n' Shop
With the radio on

The Year of Driving Languorously - The Lucksmiths
I want to feel the northerly down my sleeve
I love a sun burnt elbow pointing to the sea

The Great Dividing Range - The Lucksmiths
I find it strange that these mountains make me miserable
But the Great Dividing Range merely proves we’re indivisible

This Road - James Blundell
I love this road
When I miss my home
I guess I was born to ride that white line

The Road Goes On Forever - Robert Earl Keen
They got a hotel by the water and a quart of Bombay gin
The road goes on forever and the party never ends

Lido Shuffle – Boz Scaggs
He be makin' like a beeline
Headin' for the borderline
Goin' for broke

Along the Road to Gundagai - Peter Dawson
Where the blue gums are growing
And the Murrumbidgee’s flowing
Beneath that sunny sky

Our Don Bradman – Art Leonard
For when he goes in to bat
He knocks ev'ry record flat
For there isn't anything he cannot do

Long Way Round - Stereophonics
Gonna roll up the sidewalk
I'm gonna tear up the ground.
Comin' round to meet you
The long way round.

Return of the Grievous Angel – Gram Parsons
20,000 roads I went down, down, down
And they all led me straight back home to you

Two For The Road

At-home parenting is all about balance. So, in a hectic week packed full of outings and activities done without leaving town, it made sense to also devote some time to planning our upcoming, boys-only 1,100km road trip from Melbourne to Sydney.

Tramps like us, as Springsteen says.

It’s not all about rock n’ roll, of course, and 1,100km is a lot of ground to cover with an infant, even in three days. It’s vital that each is split into at least three chunks to allow for decent lunch and play stops. The trip also has to be evened out and, while I’d like the nights to be spent in the nicest towns, I also want to avoid driving more than 400km in any one day.

The big question, then: ‘where ya gonna go?’

Day One: Melbourne to Glenrowan (288km)
The easy option would be to go straight up the Hume Highway at 110km/h, but what kind of way is that to start a road trip?

Instead we'll be taking a more easterly and far more scenic route through the Goulburn Valley. Like so much of the state, this is gold rush country. It is also, Lonely Planet tells me, Victoria's fruit bowl, which means Kate can rest easy about our 5+ a day.

Well, at least on day one.

Our first stop is a bit of a pilgrimage. I’ve been to Parkes to see The Dish, so when in the area of course I’m going to Bonnie Doon (I’m going to Bonnie Doon) to see the power lines under which the Kerrigans fished and laughed in The Castle.

Located on the shores of Lake Eildon, the product of a hydro scheme, Bonnie Doon is a 180km drive from Melbourne. This means we’ll be well over half way to Glenrowan by the time the boy wakes up from his morning sleep.

At least that’s the plan.

From Bonnie Doon we’ll make the short trip to Mansfield in the foothills of the Great Dividing Range. This is a town surrounded by grazing land and mountain forests. It also has several historic buildings.

That's great if you’re old. We’re going for the zoo. There Austin will meet Joey the Grey Kangaroo and his mates the wombats, dingos (don’t worry, I’ll be holding on tight), emus and galahs. For the less patriotic they also have lions, monkeys and llamas.

Less than an hour due north we’ll hit the Hume Highway for the short drive to Glenrowan where we'll spend our first night. It won't be a dinner time arrival though, because there's some boys' own fun to be had around here.

This is Kelly Country. Ned was hanged in the Melbourne Gaol, but Glenrowan is where he and the boys made their final stand.

Day Two: Glenrowan to Gundagai (366km)
There’s a track winding back
To an old-fashioned shack
Along the Road to Gundagai

Day two is shaping up as the most challenging because the big drive is in the early afternoon when Austin is least likely to sleep. First up is a 60km drive to Myrtleford, where there’s a piece of Carter Holt Harvey that hasn’t been sold off.

At least not yet.

In fact, it’s one of Australia’s biggest mills, making structural timber and plywood. I know this because they were a client for many years. Carter Holt Harvey is also where I met Kate.

From there it’s Yackadandah - a town which has given Kate a work colleague, and one that has a name very much worthy of a play stop. We'll need one, because next up is the 233km leg to Tumut.

Lying close to the state line, Tumut is another Carter Holt Harvey town. The mill isn’t as big as Myrtleford’s but it does have a state-of-the-art particulate emission filtration system.

This is important, because it means it'll be with clear mountain air in their lungs that the Clark boys will drive the final 34kms to Gundagai.

Nestled alongside the Murrumbidgee River, this town is famous, not just in song, but also for its old bridge.

This and Rusconi's Marble Masterpiece.

Day Three: Gundagai to Sydney (380km)
Our final day is our biggest drive. Add to that the fact that the first half looks pretty boring and the rest is territory we covered very recently on our Sunday drive to the Southern Highlands.

As a result it’ll be a case of sticking to the Hume so we can knock the bugger off.

There’ll be stops, of course, and the first will be Goulburn, some 180kms from Gundagai. This, I’ve just learned, was Australia’s first inland city. It has sweeping views, architectural heritage and The Old Goulburn Brewery.

Sounds like the perfect lunch stop.

Next up Bowral for the obligatory stop at the oval to pay our respects to The Don. Time allowing I may even take Austin back to that Toyworld store.

Even more time allowing and we'll return to one of the local wineries, but this time just to shop.

Then the big haul to Sydney. This 120km leg was smooth driving with Austin last time so I’ll be hoping for a repeat effort. He’ll be awake for the last 2km though, because we’ll being going home via Pyrmont to pick Kate up from work.

It’s a bit like when Ewan McGregor let his wife ride with the boys for the final leg of Long Way Down.

So that’s the plan. One car, two boys, three days. It’s a big ask for the young lad, but with plenty of stops and early motel check-ins I’m quietly confident he’ll take it in his stride.

I hope he does, because between The Castle, Ned Kelly, Joey the Grey Kangaroo, The Dog on the Tuckerbox and Don Bradman, there’s a lot of Australia for a young lad to soak up.

Second Hand Magic

My vinyl collection is a pathetic one-fiftieth of what my brother's was at its peak but it continues to evolve. Heck, a day after Michael Jackson's death I picked up a copy of Off The Wall for $5 at the Rozelle Market.

I love my iPod but you can't replicate that sort of magic in a digital world.

I also love online shopping, a little too much if you ask Kate, but for all its choice and convenience it can't match the real world fun of hunting for great second-hand children's shoes.

I should know.

Austin and I discovered a pre-loved kids clothing shop a few weeks ago on our first venture to the far side of Victoria Road. Always worth a look, I figured, and it was. A Kathmandu fleece for $10 and a pair of London-style white Puma sneakers for just $5.

To put this in perspective, last weekend we bought the lad some Saucony runners for $39, down from $50. And at this age they don't exactly get a chance to break them in.

So yesterday we were back. Nike runners to fit now, Reeboks the next size up. Both $6, both looking like they could be brand new.

The Nikes, being grey, are a particularly fantastic purchase. His other shoes are white, blue and brown, so there was nothing that ideally covered the black and grey elements of his wardrobe.

Standards, please, he is British.

The question now: how soon before we go back? Sure, you have to let the stock rotate, but I'm also worried about being seen to exploit the situation. That said, it's privately owned, not a charity store, and at these prices people must be giving them product for free.

Also, I did give the heads-up to a couple of mums at playgroup. Word really should be getting around.

And I hope it does, because this is the at-home parent version of second hand vinyl. You walk past the store, you have to go in. You idle away half an hour flicking through the bins in the hope of finding something great. And, sometimes, when you do - magic.

We had the same thing in London. Once Austin was born we spent a lot of time in the nappy valley that is Wandsworth. At the southern end of its most famous street, Northcote Road, is a charity shop that stocks only kids clothing and toys. Being Wandsworth - the same is true for Balmain and Rozelle - this is generally top notch stuff.

Kate discovered that shop and thought I'd be miffed to come home and find that she'd dressed our son in pre-loved cords. She didn't get the LP thing, nor did she anticipate my joy at picking up an unworn (i.e. sticker still on) Levis denim jacket for just £5 on my first visit.

It won't fit Austin until he's three but, like Off The Wall, it's one of those things that just had to be bought. Forget the boogie, you can blame this on the magic.

Under A Big Sky

He's no stranger to travel, but yesterday Austin experienced the Mother Of All Sunday Drives.

Sydney was grey and miserable; the early morning rain a reminder of the weather that had earlier put paid to yet another round of football.

But to the south west the sky threw up a small arch of blue, and we fancied we could drive far enough to find the place where it would open up before us. And with that the thought of a little boy under a big blue sky.

Fortunately, that's exactly how it proved to be. Ninety-minutes and we reached Mittagong, gateway to the Southern Highlands. Austin and Mum hit the playground while I made a beeline for the local pie shop - a trip justfied by the discovery of the chunky rendang beef.

Next stop Bowral and a wee lad's pilgrimage to the Bradman Oval to picnic beside the white picket fence. On the main street we found a Toyworld store, one of which had been the source of most of my childhood presents, and a fantastic kids shoe store.

Infant's Saucony runners for under $40. Bargain. Sold.

Fleeting visits to Berrima and Moss Vale followed, then onto a couple of local wineries which would give further reason for a long weekend visit come the end of the football season.

All-in-all it turned out to be a five CD fuelled 270km round trip that left three happy Clarks, including one who managed to sleep the entire way down and most of the journey home.

It was also a nice bit of preparation for next month's boys-only, three-day marathon drive from Melbourne to Sydney, and a reminder that that itinerary needs a bit more work.

An Eye For A Bargain

I've been in PR for eleven years, so I know there's no easy way to say "honey, while you were at work I bought a circular saw, belt sander, vertical line generator and an extraordinarily powerful rotary hammer drill."

I thought about wrapping them up with little 'Happy Father's Day' cards and hiding them under the bed, but that would just be delaying the inevitable.

Albeit delaying all the way until September.

Part of the problem is that I only wanted a new drill, and even then needed one less than I did back in March when I managed with one borrowed from a friend. The other stuff we might need if we were doing work on our house, but that's in another country.

Anyone psycho-analysing this could be thinking that I've been emasculated by my at-home role and am compensating by purchasing hi-spec power tools.

Nah, I'm the guy with tremendous foresight and an eye for a bargain. This kit is worth $2,200 but I paid less than a tenth of that.

Even the Kerrigans would be impressed.

Alas, Kate is not is Kerrigan. And I'm not one to run and hide. I'll be taking full responsibility for my investments, even though my mate Aaron is so obviously at fault.

He's the one who told me Bunnings had ended its relationship with GMC and that their products were now the subject of a massive Grays Online auction. He's the one who invited me over for a gin and tonic and then brought out his laptop so we could check it out.

Come to think of it, he did everything except buy the nail gun which would have so nicely rounded off our collection. Mind you, he is the one planning some home renovations, at which point I will at least get to take these toys out of their boxes.

And that will be fun.

A Country Classic

This is the third of seven posts that Mrs Clark has seen fit to recommend over the life of the blog. Another month and these Saturday shenanigans will be over.

This is the one about the Country Women’s Association of New South Wales and its fantastic old cookbook. I've chosen it because we're in the middle of planning a road trip to Melbourne and back; heading south on the coastal route of the Princes Highway and home via the Hume and inland treasures such as Yackadandah and Gundagai.

That's a return journey of over 1,900km.

It's also around 900km too much for some. Kate is staying in Melbourne on business and our holidaying whanau are skipping back to NZ.

But for the Clark lads there'll be three extra days to discover even more of New South Wales and its southern neighbour. And those Victorian ladies, we hope, will have a cookbook of their own.

Cooking for Invalids and Substituting for Eggs
MONDAY 30 MARCH

With the cake poll closing on Wednesday it’s time to start thinking about recipes. This is exciting stuff as it gives me a reason to spend the morning flicking through some of the volumes we’ve collected over the years.

My starting point is obvious: The Country Women’s Association of New South Wales Cookery Book, which I picked up on a 2004 trip to Parkes and Forbes.

Fifteen editions have been published since 1937, when the first was compiled by Jessie Sawyer OBE and Sara Moore-Sims to mark the coronation of George VI. Little appears to have changed, however, and it remains very much, and most wonderfully, of its time.

Looking for cakes I naturally find chocolate, banana, sultana, pound and madiera. With them are marks left by the previous generation – centenary cake and the Victoria sponge – and two I imagine must have been omitted from at least the 1941 and 1945 editions: German cakes of the coffee and pound variety.

A common and entertaining feature of these old books is what appears here as 'Household Hints'. I learn gelatin can take the place of three cake-bound eggs and that when picnicking one can keep a bottle of milk fresh all day simply by adding a good pinch of bicarbonate of soda.

These, I am certain, will one day come in handy.

Another chapter, 'Invalid Cookery', causes some initial confusion. I then realise this has nothing to do with protocols or regulations but instead concerns the preparation of food for poorly or convalescent people.

As it turns out, this is a very serious business and there are three rules that "must dominate food preparation":
1. Absolute cleanliness is essential.
2. All food prepared must be nourishing.
3. The food must be served daintily and dished attractively to tempt the patient’s appetite.

Pardon. I appreciate – or at least assume - that rice water, lemon foam and chicken broth are all highly nourishing, but how the hell you serve them daintily is beyond me.

Then I remember that wisdom is cemented in times more difficult than I have known, and I choose to put my future mealtime happiness, and perhaps health, in the hands of the fine ladies of the great towns of regional New South Wales.

For the birthday cake, I may have to turn to Nigella.

Learn about the history and activities of the Country Women’s Association of New South Wales at www.cwaofnsw.org.au

On The Road Again

A country music festival or the Horse Capital of Australia?

That's one big choice for a little cowboy, so it's just as well that Austin's inability to talk meant the decision making was left to Mum and Dad. Figuring his Gene Autry songs would be more impressive if he first learnt to ride a horse, we packed the car for the four-hour drive to Scone in the upper reaches of the Hunter Valley.

Port Stephens can wait for another day. Ideally one in January.

Scone (rhymes with phone; no jam or cream here) is home to the Australian Stock Horse Association and many of the country's top horse studs. Each May it hosts the Festival of the Horse and the town's big day at the races - the Scone Cup.

Being June we had to make do with the Tourist Information Centre's fake pony and its electronic wagging tail. And, to be fair, it did the trick. Austin was entranced and we had to prise the horse's plastic carrot from his grasp as we ended both of our visits. Bless.

Fortunately Scone has more to offer than horses. The town centre is rather charming: a long main street (Kelly, which one would like to think is taken from the female lead in High Noon) and several lovely old buildings. Just out of town is Lake Glenbawn, and a little north lies Mt Wingen - otherwise known as Burning Mountain. Though it looks like a poor man's Rotorua, this is actually one of the world's few naturally burning coal seams.

This could well be significant, and a better parent would most likely have conveyed the fact to their child with greater conviction.

In my defence, Austin slept through almost all of our 1.5 hour walk up and down Burning Mountain. A fine sense of prioritisation, I thought, as he was wide awake throughout the proceeding hour-long scenic drive on which we encountered sheep, cows, horses (horses!), kangaroos and a fantastic 20km stretch of dirt road.

Of course, this does mean his next adventure will be a trip to the car wash.

Another Rainy Grays Afternoon

I was introduced to Grays Online before I even arrived back in Sydney. And the last thing a bloke who spends his days at home needs to know is that there’s an online wine auction every day, on the hour, every hour from 2pm to 5pm.

By the time we moved into our house on 15 February I’d purchased six cases. Come the end of the month I'd ordered another four.

Not that we were necking the stuff. It just sat in the study taking up valuable space. Space that became hard to reclaim.

For a start, 10 cases is a lot to get through, especially when people turn up for dinner with a bottle of their own. Secondly, while the two cases of red were both a decent drop, a Hunter Semillon aside the whites ranged from fair to just plain awful.

Fortunately the average bottle price by this time was an even five dollars. And there is, after all, that saying about getting what you pay for.

This cuts both ways, of course, and we were much happier once we moved away from Grays and started buying the New Zealand whites we know and trust.

Now Grays is back.

Two weeks ago we were out of red. Grays had always delivered on this front and the unlabelled Hunter Sangiovese-Shiraz - a bargain at $55 the case - didn’t disappoint. I should have realised that this was how it all started back in February. I didn’t, of course, and so it was that I found myself a week later starting to flick through the day’s auction catalogues.

I wagered that an unlabelled Hunter Sangiovese – another $55 score - would be from the same winery and just as good. Yesterday I discovered Grays is now listing Te Kairanga wines, buoyed by which I purchased a case of Riesling and six bottles of Sauvignon. Even the Sauvignon was just $11 a bottle - and spending on bargains isn’t really spending at all.

Kate has never been one to adopt this particular maxim, but she was happy enough with these purchases. She won't, I sense, be so again when she gets home today to learn that I’ve been at it again. I was just curious about what the Te Kairangas were going for today. It’s just that in doing so I discovered an unlabeled Hunter Semillon and put in a low early bid.

It's also that I bid for two of the four available cases. And that I won them both.

In my defence they’re only $4.15 a bottle and Semillon does cellar well. Let’s just hope it's drinkable.

Tramps Like Us

It may not be Springsteen’s Highway 9, but the Great Western Highway is a lovely piece of road.

A five minute drive from our home in Rozelle gets you to its starting point where the City West Link meets Parramatta Road. Under the initial guises of the Western Motorway it moves you quickly through the expanses of Sydney’s western suburbs before crossing the Blue Mountains, climbing over the Great Dividing Range and dropping into the Macquarie Valley to its end point at Bathurst.

That’s some 210km and, from there, the state’s west opens up before you.

One day I’ll show Austin the road in its entirety, most likely en route to Parkes and its famous radio telescope, but today was just a grey day excursion. An excuse to get out of the house. A way of making sure he stays still long enough to finish his bottle.

And he did, pretty quickly in fact.

Of course, a roadtrip is nothing if short, so we stayed on the Great Western all the way to Minchinbury and stopped for lunch and a play at Mount Druitt before heading back home.

Around 80km in total and, yes, there are parks just around the corner. But we are boys after all. And I know The Boss would approve.

Boys Own Fun

Yesterday afternoon was almost perfect. After Austin’s sleep we hopped into the car with Bruce Springsteen and drove to Bunnings.

It was Austin’s first time and, as all Bunnings customers do, we had a very important purchase to make.

This was a pair of Cyclone heavy duty loppers with bypass cutting action and non-stick SK5 blades. These are essential for chopping up the palm fronds which regularly – and spectacularly – fall onto our garden.

They come with a 10 year warranty, but I’d like to think they’re made to last; something Austin will grow up seeing in the shed, coming to use in his chores and eventually inheriting along with my extensive collection of English football scarves and Dad’s Army DVDS.

Come to think of it, there’s really no reason to bequeath him anything else.

But that’s a long way off, touch wood, so back to Bunnings and our boys own adventure.

One of the fundamental Bunnings rules is that, regardless of time constraints or what you actually came for, you can’t leave the store without browsing every aisle. And, with the lad strapped to my chest in the Baby Bjorn, that’s exactly what we did.

He was enjoying it immensely, I was getting ‘good on you son’ looks from middle aged men and, then, jack pot. We wander into the tool section and find precisely what I also needed: a pair of Stanley 150mm diagonal cut pliers. These are very important things and, though I’m not sure when I’ll next be called upon to cut some electrical wire, it's satisfying to know I’ll be ready for the task.

That, by the way, is not an open invitation.