Second time around

This weekend I did something I never do; I holidayed in a place for the second time. I mean, I have been to certain places more than once – Paris is a city I have visited a few times for example (I’m not showing off I promise, I’m from the UK so it used to be an easy and affordable trip) – but I have never deliberately chosen the exact same location and accommodation before.  

And yet, almost a year to the day since our last excursion into the countryside, we found ourselves zooming out of the city at lunchtime on Friday, headed once again for the Lost World Valley and 'our' cottage.

 

This time we were accompanied by our second beloved midget and our rather splendid two year old. Last time we relaxed, unwound and enjoyed the fresh country air. This time we enjoyed the fresh country air. Turns out two years olds aren’t quite as relaxing as one year olds and that newborns don’t sit smiling in a high chair while awaiting sustenance. Who knew?  

 

We may have been twice as tired but we still had lots of fun. Check out this comparison pic of Lady A at the cottage last year and again this weekend.

What a difference a year makes

 

We also find ourselves experiencing a little déjà vu on the home front as we are once again looking for a rental property. The place we have now is fine, but it’s not right and with two small children and a potential work from home job (more on that next post) I need it to be right. This time the priorities are space both internally and externally. We’re ready for a change of scene and arehousehunting in areas quite different to the one we have occupied this past six years.

 

Although moving is undoubtedly a big, fat pain in the ass, it is also a chance to mix things up a bit, to slough off the old and emerge all exfoliated and fabulous, ready to enjoy the fresh start. I cannot wait to faff with furniture in a new environment, to take different walks, drink tea in different cafes and turn somebody else’s house into our home. That last one is always a challenge but I’m up for it, in fact I’m champing at the bit to get started. Somebody hold me back!

 

And to top off a week of all things two, this Saturday I’ll become the very proud Godparent to twins at a Sesame Street themed naming ceremony and birthday party.

 

This post was brought to you by the number two.

Lost World

I have been longing for a great escape for quite some time. I’ve been feeling bogged down, stuck in a rut and a bit fed up. But how to get my happy on with a limited budget, a husband who can’t take much time off work and a toddler? It’s a good question thoughtful reader, well said.

I pondered some time in a health farm – pros: peace, wellness, weightloss. Cons: couldn’t bear to leave my spectacular small one behind, prohibitively expensive. I wondered about a day at a spa – pros: relaxation, looking and feeling brighter. Cons: it’s just not long enough, the effects are fleeting and I’m not in the mood to make small talk.

No, the only solution is a weekend away in the country, easy driving distance from home (to minimise toddler travel time) and somewhere beautiful. And, since a change is as good as a rest,  somewhere we have never been. This last criteria ruled out the usual suspects - Maleny, Montville, Mt Tamborine, Stanthorpe, Byron Bay Hinterland, Sunshine Coast, Gold Coast – all had been visited and enjoyed by us on previous occasions, plus I was beginning to feel I wanted somewhere quieter, less touristy and with more room to breathe.

 

And then I found it: Lost World Valley. The very name conjures up images of a verdant wild place, forgotten for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. At around 90 minutes from Brisbane, true forgetting isn’t possible of course but it is a hidden plateau (at the wilderness end of Lamington National Park) a place where it’s easy to imagine that anything could remain hidden and perhaps a part of oneself could be found.

 

I promptly booked Eighteen Mile Cottage and, as the clock struck one on Friday, we were off – barrelling out of the rain swept city and towards a world of green. Our cottage was wonderful. A gorgeous, wooden, 1920s Queensland cottage which, the owner informed us, had been transported from Brisbane many years before. And not just Brisbane but our suburb; in fact just two streets away from our home. It felt meant to be. Inside was tastefully decorated in a pared-back country style and outside lay five acres of land with the Albert River running through it, just for us.

We had an absolute ball. Agatha very quickly went “free range” toddling at great speed around the garden barefoot and excitedly pointing out birds and wallabies and cows. We popped into town and visited the museum and gathered supplies and then we came “home” and didn’t leave again until our too-short holiday was over. We enjoyed misty mornings, sunny afternoons and star-filled nights. We played football, dipped our toes in the (freezing) river, ate picnics, stretched out on the grass and absorbed the vitamin D.

In the evenings Andy and I talked and read and relaxed. No phone reception and no internet is a very good thing indeed. Nothing else mattered, just us and our glorious girl.

We decided that a place of our own in the country is in our future; the air, the space, the freedom was incredible. We don’t know where yet and of course I know that day-to-day life in the countryside has its challenges and it isn’t simply an extended version of the special weekend we just enjoyed but my word it’s where we want to be. I found my happy!