Australia is host to many different festivals and carnivals – probably the most famous being Sydney’s flamboyant Mardi Gras and Melbourne’s International Comedy Festival, to name just a few.

But this week, we attended Australia’s leading regional Food and Wine Festival in Noosa.

Although I love great food, and I have definitely be known to partake in the odd bottle of wine or three, the reason why we decided to check this festival out was for the live entertainment.

Topping the bill on the opening night was Bjorn Again - the world-class ABBA tribute band… and they were fantastic!

No amount of driving rain could stop us from gyrating like lunatics at the back of the outdoor concert to all the ABBA classics like Waterloo, Mama Mia, Fernando, Living on a Prayer….

Huh?

……yeah, I think they just threw that one in to prove they aren’t just a one-trick pony.

Anyway, while we danced about soaked through to our undies, waitresses carted about delicious gourmet treats on silver platters for us to sample…. the wine flowed and the food kept coming – could it get any better?

Well, we didn’t get thrown out for sneaking in tuna mayonnaise sandwiches and Cheezels for the kids – but then what would they want with ‘delicate degustations of oak-smoked salmon inuendos’ or whatever they were.

A great night was had by all. Just another example of Australia’s wonderful festivals - even though we looked like we had joined an all-in mud-wrestling competition by the time we left to go home. Who needs Glastonbury?

SPLAT!

For more information on the festivals of Oz, check out:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_festivals_in_Australia

Have a great week.

Yeah? Well I did forget.

Not about all the Australian and New Zealand men and women who died or suffered in the tragedy of war….

Not about the families of the men and women who mourned these honourable souls who were victims of armed conflict….

….what I did forget was to set my alarm to wake up early enough to get my kids down to the starting point for the ANZAC Day march.

OK so ANZAC Day, being the 25th April - maybe ‘so last weeks news’  but I thought this weeks blog should be dedicated to it, purely because when I was in the UK…. I thought an ANZAC was a type of biscuit.

My first ANZAC Day came as a little surprising to me. I had lived in Australia for nearly a year, so I had learnt that ANZAC Day is very similar to our Remembrance Sunday – we honour the servicemen and women who fought in the Great war – the battle of Gallipoli being the one that first marked the tradition in Oz.

But the startling difference between ANZAC Day and Remembrance Sunday, is the fact that nearly all the shops are shut to mark the event…. just bear that in mind – and perhaps buy and extra pint of milk and loaf of bread on the 24th.

Vicky & the Vets.

I arrived at the memorial service just in time to hear the band finish playing , so keeping as much of a low profile as possible – I pushed through the heaving crowd dragging two thirds of my children in freshly pressed uniforms to where the rest of the school had congregated after the march. I would have got away without anyone realising our lateness, if in my panic to get away I hadn’t trodden on my toddlers foot – who then shrieked in agony just as the two minutes silence was being observed.

No amount of drinks/muesli bars/dummies or mobile phone offers could console his shrill cry and it was only disguised by a chorus of Abide with me - giving me time to find a suitable distraction by way of the nearby play park.

The rest of the service went by without trauma, and soon we were all standing to attention as the bugle sounded and we watched the release of the ceremonial white doves.

So there's more to it than a biccie?

After the service, we all gorged on complimentary ANZAC biscuits, baked by the local RSL Club and drank scorching hot tea out of polystyrene cups, while the children ran wild after having to sit still for so long.

We then headed home and soon realised that I had in fact only bought milk and bread… and we had no other food in the cupboard – so I made a stodgy yet sumptuous bread and butter pudding and we ate it for our dinner.

 How jolly British.

It came to my attention last week, as I was gleefully frolicking around on the beach, that I could no longer run after my 11 year old son without clutching at my chest and gasping for oxygen.  Being that he is probably not the most athletic of children (without sounding cruel, he does constantly stumble in at last place in every school sports day race) it was more of a wake-up call to me that I should perhaps look into starting up some type of fitness regime.

I have been here before though…. 

Many moons ago, I decided to get up when dawn’s cackling crows interrupted my restful sleep…  I thought I should take the opportunity to go for an early morning walk.

So dragging myself out of my comfy bed, I squeezed my nether regions into a pair of trembling Lycra cycling shorts, screwed my tangled mop of hair into a top-knot, donned my bottle-end glasses and headed out into the warm morning sun for a spot of exercise.

What I didn’t bank on was a whole fleet of slick, toned, tri-athlon style power walkers, all bright and merry and exceptionally happy to greet you on passing….  I certainly wasn’t expecting such a social event – I just wanted to rid my thighs of the cellulite I had accumulated whilst sitting writing a book…. I still had sleep in my eyes, I didn’t want to converse.

After about 15 minutes of painful hill-walking I gave up on the whole fitness-thingy, not only was I perspiring from my knee-caps – I just wanted to escape from these super fit people and their jolly greetings until I was suitably washed and had mascara on….

So making a decision to become fit again and not have to reach for an oxygen mask every time I wanted to play with my children, was one I really wanted to stick to. So this week, I have taken up walking again. But don’t think I am glutton for punishment, this time I had a cunning plan!

Instead of joining the masses for a dawn dash, I wait until everyone is tucked up in their homes, watching CSI Miami/NY/Florida/Omaha or whatever it is they do, then I creep out, and have a 20 minute exhausting power-walk… holding weights and everything…and come home feeling absolutely great. Without anyone seeing me.

The point to this story is though, not only do I feel great for finally doing some exercise, but that the most amazing sight greeted me when I reached the top of our hill…

The street lights in our area are not very bright, so although I do panic in case I squish/trip over a cane toad, when I reached the top of our hill, I gasped at the beautiful night sky…. the array of stars that blanketed above me was breathtaking.  I know I have seen this sight before, but I had taken for granted just how unimaginably wonderful the southern night sky was.

I love my evening walk now, I feel fitter, enjoy a fabulous setting and never have to compete with the greyhound bottomed athletes and their mighty-medicine-ball-breasts…

And one last note…. although my son isn’t the typical Aussie sportsman, he can play the guitar wonderfully!

Simply strummin'