Cold in Winter

Dawni was talking about summer colds. She can keep them. And winter colds. I'm deep in the depths of one which has gone the rounds of the family and now my darling daughter has started off a fresh one, possibly caught from one of the children at the school where she is prac teaching. She bought a bottle of "edible bubble mixture" which apparently tastes like orange if you eat the bubbles blown. Possibly a mix of orange juice and detergent. Had to laugh when I saw her blowing bubbles and then trying to snarf them up. She got one or two as the floated around.

She blew one for me, and I was almost going to look ridiculous as well when I thought, hey this bubble is full of cold-germ-infested air, and drew back. Last thing I want is a fresh cold on top of this one. That'd be a cold-cold, I suppose, or maybe a bugger-bugger, cos the one I got is a real bugger.

Kerri's recovering. She's past the runny nose stage, but it made her asthma flare up. She got out her stethoscope last night and listened to my chest. Once the odd noises produced by the application of freezing stethoscope to warm pink skin had stopped echoing around the house, she pronounced me clear as a bell. May it stay that way. Occasionally I get a bit of tightness and a touch of wheezing and I don't like it. The rest of my family is cursed by asthma, but I've pretty much enjoyed rude health all my life, apart from the odd cold or tummy wog.

Reading Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods at the moment. Not as funny as I'd expected from the reports, though I must admit that it has me doubled up in joyful agony from time to time. I reckon I could aim at that sort of standard with my next book. I like the way he's introduced history into his book. History and funny adventures and exotic places and Bookcrossing - a limited market, but a good one to share a bit of fun with.

I've scored another journal to take with me on my winter trip north. It started in Vermont and went to Chicago, Holland, Scotland, South Australia and Sydney. It needs to get to Byron Bay (Australia's most easterly point and a haven for the counter-culture, what's left of it). I'll pick it up in a couple of weeks, take pics of it with Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge, take it to Byron Bay and then on to Surfers Paradise, up to Rockhampton on the Tropic of Capricorn, through Skyring on the Bruce Highway, a quick visit to Canberra and then it can resume its travels, probably to New Zealand.

This will make a great addition to my book. I really enjoyed having a journal on the last trip, and this one's been to a heap of great places.

Listening online to Macca at the moment. My radio is broken, or at least the tuning bit of it is - I busted it trying to pick up a cottage radio program on Bookcrossing from Tuggeranong, actually broke the little stringy bit inside and now it's permanently set to Newsradio - so I've got the server playing the show in case it overloads the workstation which has a bunch of struff running, including Semagic.

Anyway, Ian McNamara's Australia All Over show is a Sunday morning institution. He's broadcasting from Hobart at the moment, where it's probably still dark and cold, and he's got a heap of interesting people from the Antarctic Division and stuff with him. A few songs as well. Love the show - pure Australiana.

If I can distill a bit of the essence of the show into my book it'll be extra good.

I've got the accomodation arranged. A week in a highrise in Surfers. I can sit on the balcony, soak up the sun and the views and the teenagers can watch cable. The only thing missing will be Kerri, who has to keep working. Give me more time to write, I suppose, though it won't be as much fun without my wife.