Saturday 4th April 09 – Byron Bay.

Its raining. Again.
I have just finished a another gourmet meal of corn thins, Promite, avocado and a huge carrot, as normal, but, as my beloved boy has now touched down, we splashed out and added broccoli, houmous, feta cheese and some Turkish bread, his choice, to our eclectic shopping trolley.
It is beautiful to be back together, ‘team Saliver’, and he is dealing well with my sudden stressful outbursts as my institutionalised brain gets used to being back in a world of taxis, pizzas, pelican crossings, and bad movies.
I have ceremonially left the ashram and am now in the wooden egg box that is the Belongil Beach house.
We stayed here when my boy came to visit, so Michael the friendly guy at reception remembered us and greeted us warmly as old friends, asking me how the course went and congratulating me on my newly acquired teaching status. Because of our ‘contact’ we managed to swindle one of the better rooms for 1 night.
We dragged our bags, heavier than ever, up the wooden staircase and along the outdoor walkway to our room, number 23. Inset into the door was a beautiful stained glass window of a pelican, always a sign of class in my book. We opened the door, dumped out stuff and needless to say enjoyed our palatial room with gay abandon until 10am this morn when our bubble was brutally burst and we had to downgrade to the more shoebox like room in which we now reside.
Today began with a run on the beach, followed by a generous stab at some yoga by Ollie and a test of my teaching skills. Then a quick bowl of muesli, strawberry yoghurt, and a banana each and we were off on our bicycles in search of a place to call our own.
To cut a very long day short, we didn’t find our dream home. We cycled out to Suffolk park to have a look a few places on the rentals list, handed to us by Alison the blonde real estate agent, but they were either too big, too expensive, or had been photographed in a very good light, on a very good day and, I suspect, had a generous dash of Adobe Photoshop lavished upon them.
So now here I sit, perched on the edge of our creaky metallic bed, staring at the fire drill laminate on the wall and wandering if we will ever find our hinterland hideaway, and where, exactly is it hiding?
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