Five low-cost hacks in our new house that add value to our day.

The devil, they say, is in the detail. That being true, I recommend making the devil your best friend if you’re planning to build a new house or renovate.

Everyone who builds has their regrets: didn’t make the bedroom/bathroom/living room big enough, windows wrong size, higher or lower ceilings and so forth. Having now built our second house, I can still see areas which we could do better next time.

It's not always the most obvious details which makes the difference to improving livability, but the small. Here are 5 details which I’m glad we did because they have made a difference to function and appearance.

The power of pink.

It’s said that it used to be that pink was a colour for boys, and blue for girls.

I like this idea. Although a devotee of pink, I also love blue and all it’s hues, from the wisteria and cornflower tones, right through to deep navy. Against the skin it adds paleness which might be why the fashionistas of the 19^th century, at least in some parts of the world, favoured it for their little girls.

The Roo.

If you have a pet dog or cat, you would know that with the joy and companionship there is also the responsibility of ownership.

This takes the form of the expensive (vet bills, constantly buying food, treats and bedding), the time-consuming (walking can sometimes be a chore, washing bedding etc) and the icky, such as picking up poop, treating fleas or goopy eyes and ears, grass seeds stuck in paws…..

Hosting wildlife doesn’t usually carry the same burdens.

Absence without apology.

So I’m back.

It’s been a long time since I posted (gosh I really didn’t realise exactly how long) and there’s a variety of reasons for that – time, motivation and family all factor – but mainly I have to come clean and admit that mentally I wasn’t able.

These past months have been challenging and I have found myself feeling overwhelmed, inadequate, anxious and depressed. My rational brain tells me this is partly understandable, for who wouldn’t be overwhelmed with building a house, moving, and keeping school, work, therapy, marriage and afterschool activities on track?

But this has been deeper, crippling, continual and difficult to extract myself from.

In the end, despite weeks of trying to pack, cull and clean in preparation for the move to our new house, it was chaotic and frenetic - everything I had been trying to avoid. If not for the dogged insistence and hardwork from my parents, it would have been an unmitigated disaster. I will be ever-thankful to them. We just made it, but it left me exhausted at a time when I wanted to be energised.

We moved whilst in the persistent grip of winter. Heavy frosts dulled my excitement of finally giving up the renting treadmill. Bouts of heavy rain left our new house surrounded by un-traversable, oozy clay mud and washed our long driveway into the street, leaving deep ruts to be negotiated by four-wheel-drive only. One night my husband literally ended up sliding one of our cars down the driveway, all traction lost to the mud, slipped between the gateposts, to finish at the mailbox miraculously unscathed.

Despite the double-glazing, the first six weeks in our new house felt cold. Perhaps erroneously, we chose to delay window treatments, partly for financial reasons, partly to ‘live’ the house for a bit to get a good feel for what will work. Whilst the sunrises and morning views from our bedroom each morning have been nothing short of stunning every single day, it’s also left me feeling unable to retreat and hide, literally and figuratively, in those cold evenings when I was already feeling very alone in a vast world that I don’t always fit in.

Boxes of stuff abound in every space. Budget contributed to our choice to delay built-ins for our master wardrobe, for book storage, for garage storage, for everything so it seems. So the boxes for some weeks were only partly unpacked where storage or a make-do solution could be found. I found myself rootling through boxes in the garage several times, socked-feet on icy, dusty garage floor, looking for work appropriate footwear that hadn’t made it to the jumble in our wardrobe yet.

Our elderly dog Gus has noticeably also been affected. In July we were forced to make the awful decision to give peace to our dear Maisie, who we’d had since a pup, but at the age of 16 was facing severely deteriorated health and comfort. We buried her on the slope near our new house, under the gums, looking over us and the valley. I still can’t visit her without tears, so I avoid it.

So these are all, as they say, first-world problems. Big boohoo. They didn’t cause my illness. I believe my onset started as a result of sudden, life-threatening illness as a child which has impacted my life every day since. I recall being mentally paralysed by anxiety each weekend before I had to go to my part-time job as a teenager. It flared several times during my years at university. It became more serious in my late 30’s in the lead-up to my son having serious surgery and was diagnosed by my GP. Embarrassment and a feeling of not being supported led to me rejecting medication. The intervening years have been a battle I’ve valiantly tried to win but my physical health has declined, bringing fatigue and reignited feelings of helplessness. My new GP confronted me about it as I detailed every one of my physical ailments. She heard what I wouldn’t say and made a new diagnosis and helped me to realise that right now, it’s more important than any of my other health problems. So now I know it’s not going away and I need to own up to it. I need to stay on it.

So no, I haven’t posted updates about our house build for some time. We are living here now and it brings challenges but the feeling of permanence, which I was craving, is returning after not living anywhere permanently for over 6 years. It feels good to put pictures on the wall, to put plants in the ground and to make choices which will have a life of more than 12 months. The weather is getting warmer – perhaps more than is normal – but I occasionally steal 10 precious, quiet minutes of a morning, between my family leaving for the day and when I have to leave as well, to sip a steaming cup of tea in the cool morning air on my new verandah.

I quietly watch the sun rise and the birds, kangaroos and numerous wildlife continue their evolutionary journey, feeling privileged and joyful to have been a brief part of it, letting myself be open to whatever the day brings, and feeling gratitude that though I am not perfect, I am here and life goes on; in, and around me.

The bliss of Bath.

There are two types of people in the world: those who like baths, and those who don’t.

I suppose when it comes to children you might add a third category, being of the type who don’t like baths but are made to have one regardless, but for the sake of simplicity, I shall stick to those who are in control of their bathing choices.

I love a bath.

But I am picky.

I can’t take a relaxing bath in a bathroom which is crowded with kids toys. I can’t take a bath when there is kid-craziness and general hullaballoo going on in the house outside the bathroom door. In fact, I really can’t settle to a bath unless there is a reasonable degree of security that I will be uninterrupted by partner, child or cold water.

Bath is sanctuary.

“There is no problem on earth that can't be ameliorated by a hot bath and a cup of tea.” 

- Jasper Fforde, Shades of Grey

Bathtime is solitude. Bubbles, oils or bathbombs, a robust book (book holder or skill required here), and beverage of choice is necessary. Assume the position hitherto known as ‘bliss’. (Side note: now I know wine or bubbly is generally regarded as the stereotypical ‘ladies’ bathtime beverage, but there’s a lot to be said for spirits, too. Tea is also a personal favourite, although one should take care to not simultaneously overheat internally and externally from hot liquids. Iced tea is safer. Passing out in the nick on the bathroom floor due to carelessly dehydrating from excessive indulgence does tend to dent one’s bliss).

To take a bath is to remove the trials of the day as you disrobe; to add some magic potions to soothe and soften, and to wash off the dust and stress. There is method and meaning to this ritual of Bath.

That act of slowly inching my scrawny, tired and neglected frame into the steaming water, adjusting to the heat and enjoying the tingle as the senses awaken and then subdue, is something I often think of when I’d rather be somewhere else. Somewhere, lying in a bath, nostrils poking above the waterline like a hippo, wallowing and enjoying the sensation of becoming as buoyant as the water depth will allow. Ah, my bliss.

“There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.” 

- Sylvia Plath

So one of the indulgences in our build is to add a bath to the ensuite. It was a conscious, selfish decision because, clearly, I don’t want to share. This bath is mine. No discussion will be entered into. You can take your rubber ducky and leave right now.

Despite that, we made a mistake in planning this bath. In the whirlwind of making decisions on all the bathroom fitouts, we managed to choose just the very basic bath for both the ensuite and main bathroom, which will be mostly used by our kids. Partly this came about due to budget but also because I didn’t realise how petite the bath would be.

When the baths arrived and were installed onsite, I blanched. A kid-sized bath in a kid’s bathroom I could live with, but a kid-sized bath in an adult bathroom was quite another thing. I’d blundered.

Thankfully, we negotiated for the builder to remove the ensuite bath while we quickly ordered another, still fairly budget, but much more adult-friendly. Sigh. Of. Relief.

Oh, there were thoughts of palatially-proportioned bath 'bowls' which would bath the whole family at once (although how could this ever be relaxing?). Or perhaps a spa bath big enough for two (definitely NOT relaxing and so irritating to have my book interrupted). A flick through the latest reno magazine or scroll through Pinterest gets the wishlist whirring.

But at it's core, remember this: a bath does not need to be any longer than your own body, and only deep enough that you can wriggle your shoulders down under the waterline. The rest is excess and a waste of good book money.

Had I  the money, then yes, perhaps I would have loved a more serious bath in both spaces, even extending to that spa. But here’s the reality for most people: there’s only a limited budget and something’s gotta give. The kids will have a kid-sized bath. Adults will have a (modest) adult-sized bath. And in the future we may add an outdoor spa.

I might even share the spa. But don’t bet on it.

Injecting the vintage into our build

Hello!

It’s an exciting milestone in our house build – we’re at lockup! That’s right, that time in the build which most people consider the ‘hump’, not least of all because it’s generally the biggest payment stage, which feels pretty humpy financially, but it’s when all the external doors and windows are in and it feels like a real house.

The plasterers have been working hard and we’ve complicated their task a little because they have to work around one of the features we included to inject a little vintage vibe, pine lining boards.

There’s a bit of a throwback to pine lining boards lately thanks to the recent ‘shiplap’ trend popularised by a few American house restoration TV programs, but of course the use of timber boards to line ceilings and walls in Australian housing goes back to the original European-style houses in Australia like the slab hut.

The invention of plasterboard and asbestos- and fibro-cement sheet post WWII led to lots of beautiful timber boards being removed and new construction opting for the cheaper manufactured alternatives. Today, timber lining boards tend only to be used as feature points in design for a point of difference in architectural focal points.

I’m sure you could have predicted just a ‘focal point’ of timber lining was never going to be enough for me. Nope.

So I pushed the friendship a little with our builder and made the call: timber lining on the ceiling throughout the entrance, main living area and hall. Also I opted for a few full walls, being a large wall in the central living area, two walls in the lounge and one in the master bedroom. I chose to have them installed horizontally in the fashion of early Australian architecture.

The trickiest bit, where I may have pushed the envelope little, is the ceiling of the al fresco area, because it’s vaulted and will need a bit of time to perfect the angles.

It’s going to look superb and I can’t wait to see it painted up.

If funds had allowed, I would have gone further. I perhaps would have liked to have included the hall walls and all the ceilings, but we had the draw the purse strings somewhere and I think the choices we made for where to put the timber lining will definite add a strong vintage feel without blowing the budget and avoids the feeling of the timber just being a ‘token’ addition.

I also chose to use the side of the board which many people think of as the reverse, which gives a feeling of a wider board and reveals the curved bead line which, for me, really gives it a more period feel. Combined with a modest cornice choice, nearly every room will have a vintage hit which will be un-missable.

Next week the next stage of fitout begins, with architraves, skirting boards and tiles being delivered for installation. The slow reveal continues!

Manage your expectations (and don't sweat the small stuff)

Hello again!

It's really panning out to be an eventful week, with our brickies starting a few days earlier than expected and now looking to be almost finished by week's end. And the impact is amazing. Thank goodness.

You see, the bricks is one of the elements we had to adjust our thinking on several times. I wrote here about some of the constraints of building that we encountered. One of them was regarding the cladding material, which meant we had to adjust the mental picture of our new house from a weatherboard-look, to being mostly brick.

This wasn't an easy thing to do, because we'd built up an emotional attachment to a particular outcome. Detaching from that, and adjusting to the idea of a partly brick house was a fair shift, and finding a brick we liked, that would fit the bill aesthetically was a bit of a struggle.

However, we did find a brick we liked, and then became quite attached to it. It was a recycled brick, which fitted with my idea of trying to bring recycled or preloved elements into the build. I loved it.

But of course, recycled is de rigour now, and it's a material which is not easily sourced or cleaned.

When the builder tried to order for us, disaster struck. To our utter dismay, we found that the demand for our lovely recycled brick way outstripped supply. We were looking at minimum three to four months waiting, with no guarantees. We were gutted. We rang supplier after supplier but it was no good. Our brick was not going to be a part of our build.

At this point we were in a fair pickle. Bricks needed to be ordered quickly to keep the build moving so we had to make a quick decision about a replacement, which seemed crazy given how long it took to find the other one and then fall in love with it. And yes, I'm saying this about bricks, such is the nature of building a home.

Our local brick supplier, to their credit, offered a pretty good alternative, which was a brand new brick just released to the market, so new that the mortar on their own brick display wall hadn't even dried yet. It's a brick made to resemble a recycled product, with glaze and tumbling applied. Although not quite as red as the other one, and obviously lacking the provenance, we settled on our brick, the brick which now graces the walls of our new home.

It's the Tribeca 'Manhattan' brick from PGH, with an off-white mortar.

I can't say that this choice sits totally comfortably with me yet, but it's growing and I'm feeling very positive about the final outcome. Being a totally new product, I've only found one very small wall on a half-built house locally to give me a sense of how it might look on a larger scale. After seeing that small wall I had two reactions: the first was that I was worried I would hate it (being that I was comparing it in my mind to the previous brick), and that the mortar had to be light to give it a chance to get the antiquey look we wanted.

So after some eleventh-hour emails, we upgraded to an off-white mortar, which I'm glad we did, because it's going to look great once it fully dries. We also decided to go to an upright header above the windows and doors which really lifts the finish.

And the brickies love it. They thought it was a recycled product, so good is the effect. They also like that it's lighter than old bricks and is consistent in shape and size, making it easier to lay.

There have been several instances similar to this, albeit not as major, where we've had to readjust our expectations of how things are going to look. This can be a result of lack of communication, assumptions on behalf of various stakeholders, financial squeeze, or, as in the case of our bricks, availability.

Having to shift mindset from one expectation to another at short notice, is somewhat difficult, but sometimes it just needs to be. Losing sleep over our brick was a possibility, but now I know that was probably a waste of energy and desperately needed rest.

My philosophy now is to try to keep an open mind about alternative possibilities. There's often upside, so long as there's not an unwarranted or significant financial impact. Don't sweat the small stuff, just open your mind and let go of old ideas.

And in the case of our bricks, I can definitely see a new friendship developing.

No time to think: we're in the thick of it.

Hello!

It's been 14 weeks since we began the project of building our new house and we can't quite believe how far we've come.

Through the very hot and dry month of February we saw the trusses, roof, fascia and guttering go on. Last week the windows and door frames were installed and the Scyon boards were put onto the front of the house. The bricks were delivered, and after a last-minute change of mind about mortar colour, the bricklayers will start a few days early tomorrow.

The action has pulled lots of tradespeople to the site already, and even a few curious and furry macropods, by the look of the footprints.

This would all be very exciting, apart from the fact that it puts lots of pressure on my dear electrician who is finding himself doing his dayjob and then going off to his sidegig wiring the house until very late nearly every night.

This is the time of the build when everything is in motion, there's barely time for thinking, only for doing. Any decisions not already made need to be made. Already.

In only a couple of weeks we'll be talking to plasterers and tilers. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once. C'est formidable, the French might say.

It's also not been without some niggles on small details with our builders, or without some concessions on  details or many hours of debating bathroom sink shapes and how to balance work, family and new house demands. It wouldn't be a genuine housebuild without it's share of stress.

But we will get through this. the more I see our house grow and spend time walking the land and feeling a part of it, the more I feel connected to what we are creating. And it will be worth it.

Week 11: Putting a lid on it - the roof

Hello! What a lot has happened since I last posted. February has been super-busy and doesn't appear to be slowing down any time soon.

The start of framing heralded the start of wiring in the house, after we secured the tick of approval from the Electrical Safety Inspector for our mains. This meant me walking around the house and marking the kajillion or so powerpoints which we're going to need.

 

Admittedly there is definitely an advantage to having an electrician husband when it comes to this, because the cost of having our builder do it would have been very expensive. Next weekend I'll do the same for light switches and then we need to get ordering them. We've decided to take a different approach with this in order to be able to afford some fanciness - more on that in a later post.

But what a surprise greeted me when I thought I would sneak up to the building site this morning to get some pictures. Not having been able to find child-free time in the past two weeks, I had a 30 minute window of opportunity.

 

I found three enthusiastic roofers, energetically laying roof insulation and sheets of Colorbond! On a Sunday! What dedication!

Admittedly, it was a fabulous morning for it - all sunshine and a zephyr of a breeze playing across the valley. It was great to see the first skerrick of colour being applied.

The colour we've chosen for our roof is Colorbond Shale Grey with matching guttering. The fascia and downpipes are in Colorbond Thredbo White.

This will go back with white trim on the doors and windows (apart from the front door - this will POP!).

I made my way very quickly around the house and got home before my curfew was up. Looking at these pictures now is pretty exciting - soon the bricks and Scyon cladding will arrive and we won't know ourselves.......

Bucking the Trend: why we ditched the Parents v Kids Zone

Once upon a time, or so we are led to believe, designing the Australian family home was as easy as assembling a Vegemite and cheese sandwich. It was just a case of putting together the tried and true basics, again and again, because everybody likes it.

You knew you needed a kitchen and laundry, a dining room, a lounge room, a bathroom (yes, just one) and a few bedrooms, usually three. When you walked through the front door into the hallway (vestibules hadn't been invented in Australia yet), the order of layout was generally lounge on one side, Mum and Dad's room on the other, then the kitchen and bathroom opposing each other, then the assortment of kid's bedrooms, and with the laundry hanging off the back of the house. The toilet was always next to the laundry, not in the bathroom (only American sitcoms had this, which is when I finally understood why they called going to the toilet, going to the 'bathroom').

There were some variations, but essentially this was the quintessential Aussie Family Home. On a 1/4 acre block. If in doubt, refresh your memory by watching a movie which demonstrates this clearly: The Castle. Okay, I forgot about the poolroom (they were obviously rich).

Ah, utopian times.

Now, as time-passengers of the twenty-first century teenies, we accept that house plans must be dissected, masticated, ruminated upon and finally examined for a spark of joy or alternative facts. We must have a plebiscite and present our prospective plan to complete strangers on social media for their edification and blessing.

Or, you can get liberated and do what's right for you and not worry about everyone else.

Liberated is how we felt when we made a radical change to our house design. We had spent several months on it, and it felt okay......except for the bedrooms. It literally kept me up at night. I worried about not hearing our kids when they had nightmares or a tummy bug, and the thought of them calling and crying while we slumbered obliviously was the clincher. 

Our initial plan followed the current design default with the kids bedrooms and the master bedroom at opposite ends of the house. We stepped it out, and discovered that it would take about 35 steps from our bed to our son's. If that doesn't sound like much, try walking it in the dark at 2am down a hall, through several doorways, past the couch, kitchen table and most likely through a pile of schoolbags and toys. Now three times. Now every night.

Not so easy, huh?

I knew we had to have a conversation with our builder and they weren't going to like it because it meant starting the plan from scratch, after almost 12 months of planning.

The fact is, our kids are still relatively young at 6 and 9. It's complicated by the fact that our son has a disability which means he needs help nearly every night, usually several times. No matter how much we thought about it, the modern bias for a kids zone and parents zone wasn't going to fit our family. We bit the bullet and had the tough conversation with our designer.

Essentially we decided to not the take the advice of those who told us teenagers need their space and privacy. That we needed our own space and privacy. That when our kids have parties we would want to get as far away as possible.

My husband and I agreed that we want our kids to know we're not far away. We want them to be able to call out if they need us, to be able to pass their bedroom each morning and ask how they slept, you're late for school, I love you. Life is short and you're dead a long time.

And, just quietly, there's nothing wrong with your kids knowing that there's the teeniest chance Mum or Dad might spring them doing something that perhaps they shouldn't be doing - after all, this is how most of us were brought up, right? And we turned out okay.....right?

So there isn't a 'kids zone' in our house design. There isn't a 'parents retreat', either. I suppose the whole thing is one big Family Zone. A family home, even.

If need be, the kids can escape to a rumpus room, the lounge room or living room. There's lots of space outside and they will have their own bedrooms. In times of extreme teen angst, there are even doors on those bedrooms.

It's hard for many Aussies to understand, but there are people out there who don't like Vegemite and cheese sandwiches. It must be the cheese, I dunno. But it's true.

So it stands to reason that all house designs don't fit all families. The standard book of house designs that most builders show you doesn't always contain a design that works the way you need it to. It's absolutely okay to want or need something else, and to ask how a house plan can work better for you. Don't be afraid to challenge your builder to think outside the box. It might just be one of the most liberating thing you do.

That, and truly loving a Vegemite and cheese sandwich. 

Give and take: the top 3 building constraints to our build (so far)

Hello!


On Monday we begin Week 7 of our house build. This week and the next few are going to be big because the frames will be delivered this week and everything will become three dimensional at last - yippee!

As much as possible, we've tried to select an exterior style which fits our love of classic Australian farmhouses. When I say 'as much as possible' I mean that there are constraints that we've had to work within.

The top 3 building constraints to our build (so far)

1. 6 star Energy Efficiency Performance requirement

Ideally, I would have loved to have been renovating an old farmhouse, which would have meant we could keep heritage features and wouldn't be held as tightly to the energy star rating required for new buildings in Victoria. However, we were unable to find the amount of land we wanted in a zone close enough to our town and amenities to avoid spending a lot of time driving.

The 6 star rating works on a points system where different energy-saving applications have a star value. These star values add up until finally you get to the required minimum value of 6 stars which is necessary for your building permit to be approved.

For us, this meant reducing the amount of glass facing north, applying double-glazing, reducing the amount of verandah overhanging the north side of the house, including high-rated insulation in the external walls and ceiling, and orientating the house more closely to due north, which changed our view slightly.

2. Building on land with restrictive covenants

The land we bought is great - it's a good size at 7 acres, ideal location, great view - but it does have a covenant, meaning there are restrictions on some of the materials we can use to build our house and also where on our land we can build it.

Being a lover of old Aussie homes, I'm quite partial to a rusty old tin roof. Used in Australia since the 1840's, it's been widely used country-wide and is now part of the architectural narrative. The image of a plain corrugated roof was part of how I imagined our new house, so I was pretty disappointed to discover this was a no-no in our covenant. Understandably, modern corrugated steel is highly reflective and can be very visually intrusive for neighbours and flying craft, so we chose the Colorbond colour Shale Grey, which is still very pale but still carries the tin roof vibe that we wanted.

Another major concession that we had to make was the cladding. Initially, we were all for a house which looked like a traditional weatherboard house, and we'd chosen to clad the whole house in Scyon Linea, a modern composite product which is resistant to rot and termites, making it a better alternative to the timber weatherboards of yore.

Again, it was a bit of a blow to learn that our house needed to be clad by the majority in a masonry product. So in the spirit of trying to channel a bit more of a vintage look, we decided to clad just the front aspect of the house in Scyon and the rest in recycled red bricks from building demolitions around the state. These bricks are only lightly cleaned and will still bear the patina of past buildings, bringing the lived-in look that we were trying to achieve. It's a different approach which isn't for everyone but we're confident it's going to look pretty cute.

3. Money doesn't grow on trees

Lastly, and I'm know you're all nodding with me here: spendoolies. Yep, there's never enough cash to go around when you're looking at how much it costs to build. We've had to make decisions all the way through on where we would spend a little more (and have had no choice in spending more - hello double-glazing!) and where we would choose more frugally.

But more about where we splashed out and reigned it in another time.

Let's get those frames up!

Love your town: Sunday markets (and staying cool)

Hello!


Summer is in full swing here in Wodonga and we're currently having a burst of 40c-plus weather. Despite the heat, most of the landscape is still relatively green due to recent rain so everything is looking pretty idyllic (until you step out into the sun and get crispy-fried). Apologies to those in the northern hemisphere who are hunkered down in a record-cold winter - pretty soon we will be fed-up with the relentless heat and be feeling snow-envy, I'm sure!

It got me thinking that I've been tagging posts here and on social media with #sunnynortheast and #wodonga, but I haven't really explained the virtues of living in this part of the world. I've decided to make an effort to dedicate some posts to why living in the north-east of Victoria, Australia, is pretty darned good. It's also a reason to get to know my community better myself, being a relative new-comer to this regional city.

This morning I decided to get the kids organised and make our first visit to the local On The Border Community Market in Wodonga, which has only been running for a few months. This is no mean feat when the forecast is about 40c. The only way to tackle days like this is to expend your energy early and get home early.

After bribing treating the kids to a café breakfast we wandered around the market, which currently runs first Sundays monthly at Junction Square in the heart of Wodonga. The crowd was modest given the school holidays and the heat, with most people melting into the shade with cold drinks where they could.

The market occupies a new community space created where the old Wodonga train station was located. The rail heritage is maintained by the conversion of the station buildings into bars and cafes and the use of overhead gantries and rail-like paving.

The market itself is dominated by craft stalls, selling candles, woodwork, soaps and lots of baby and kids gifts and clothes. One stall which caught my eye was Tiny Warrior Design, selling sophisticated baby and kids items sourced from by Australian makers, some of them local. It's moments like these when you wish you had a baby to buy for!

So we made it home a little after 10am when the temperature had risen to 40c. The kids are now parked in the lounge watching a movie in the cool, with the dogs having sneaked in to find a cool spot as well. The only noise in the neighbourhood is the drone of evaporative air conditioners. The activity will begin around 6.30pm when the temperature begins to dip and people can get out for a walk and the neighbourhood kids will get out on their bikes until bedtime.

It's not a bad life. Not bad at all.