Sign of the Times

Hubs thought of the post title.

But its apt.  Newcastle is a great town, but my god, the warning signs.  Everywhere.  This one at Stockton beach is actually relatively brief, it having no instructions regarding horses, bicycles, children or which part of the footpath to walk on (Keep Left Or Else - in case you were wondering).

The B&B we stayed in was very nice and I have no complaints. Well okay. I have one.  The decor kept scaring the crap out of me.

Um, around thigh-height and creepy as hell.  It stared at us while we were watching tv.

Then we have the cowboy holding up the glass table top. Clever, no really.  Also the exact same size as Miss nearly 6 - I yelled at it twice to 'get out from under the table and stop messing about.'  Seriously though, so lifelike that it totally gave me the skin crawling creeps.

Did I mention creepy?  I actually had to move him from the bedroom - you know, just in case he CAME ALIVE during the night and tried to eat my soul or something.

Not that I have anything against Native Americans or Cowboys.

Its good to be home.  Being away was a great break (despite the best efforts of my delightful children) but its always marvellous to come home to the washing and the cooking and the chook house after they've been shut in for a week.  Yes. Glorious.

:)