There's no place like home

Whewee! Arrived home yesterday from our camping trip with part of the family to Jurien Bay, and Anna and I are both camp-dirty, shell-shocked, and happy. Took us 12 hours to get back! – we were required to stage a heroic rescue due to disastrous gear box blow out on sister's car – and even then we only made it as far as the folks house. Who cared by then, certainly not I, it was paradise just to be in a real bed in a real room with four real walls, instead of thin silky stuff. I was obviously not a Mongul invader warrior woman, or a nomadic Arabian Bedouin, in any previous lives.

Camping with a six month old? No worries! Anna was amazing, a bit freaked out for the first couple of days but then who could blame her – coming from our quiet little home consisting of each other and Bud, we were suddenly sharing space with three cousins, two grandparents, an aunt and an uncle. And love 'em all as I do, that side of the family tree are loud! I had to escape once myself to the onsite café, where I huddled in the corner with my book and a coffee and pretended I was not connected to anybody.

By the end of the week, Anna was in everyone's hearts and everyone was in hers, except for Uncle Andre who spent all week being very nice to her and not complaining much at all when all she ever did was cry every time he went near her.

I couldn't show off Anna's swimming skills as the water was damn cold; just going for a paddle took all the will power I could muster. And nobody caught any fish, but we saw one cool sea lion and a huge sting ray, and the Pinnacles were as stunning as ever.

The best bit for Anna was having her granddad there to walk around with and sing to her every day. The best bit for me? I sound like a tired old house drudge but I don't care: how nice it was to sit back with a cup of tea and my feet up, having just eaten a meal I hadn't cooked from plates I hadn't washed. What heaven.