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1000booksforreuben · 8 years ago

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0032 - 0111: A long list to catch up on, by various authors!

What on earth has Reuben been doing since November 2016, when Mum last found the time to keep track of his reading list?!

Only bottom shuffling, enjoying his first Christmas, holidaying, picnicking the (southern hemisphere) summer away, turning one, eating up a storm, changing napping schedules frequently, finally learning to sleep through the night, talking, zooming through the last of the firsts, and suddenly encountering the first of the lasts. Last breastfeed, last bottle, last tiny size 0 outfit. Our baby isn’t a baby anymore.

And our baby loves to read. At fifteen months he now recognises that letters are letters - he points at them and makes “aa, oh, eh” sounds, in imitation of us sounding them out to him. He can be trusted to pore through paper books on his own (usually) without ripping them, and he does so with gusto. Dad and Mum watch proudly as Reuben sits in his “reading corner”, next to his tiny bookshelf filled to the brim with colourful tomes, and amuses himself, lost in the pages. Then he’ll select one he wants read to him, and he bum-scoots over to crawl into a lap and listen intently.

Here’s what we’ve devoured over the past six months:

0032: ‘Planes’ by Catherine Foreman

0033: ‘Fox in Socks’ by Dr. Seuss

0034: ‘I’m a Monster’ by Sebastian Braun

0035: ‘The Cow Who Climbed a Tree’ by Gemma Merino

0036: ‘U is for Underwear’ by Jesse Levison

0037: ‘And To Think That I Saw it on Mulberry Street’ by Dr. Seuss

0038: ‘The Cloudspotter’ by Tom McLaughlin

0039: ‘Blue Chameleon’ by Emily Gravett

0040: ‘The Finger Circus Game’ by Herve Tullet

0041: ‘R is for Robot: A Noisy Alphabet’ by Adam F. Watkins

0042: ‘It’s only Stanley’ by John Agee

0043: ‘Bumble-Ardy’ by Maurice Sendak

0044: ‘Bang Bang, Plink Plink’ by Jolie Dobson

0045: ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ by James Dean

0046: ‘What Can I Smell?’ by Annie Kubler

0047: ‘Edgar Gets Ready for Bed’ by Jennifer Adams

0048: ‘Summer’ by Ailie Busby

0049: ‘Hide and Seek Harry Around the House’ by Kenny Harrison

0050: ‘Rain, Rain, Go Away’ by Caroline Jayne Church

0051: ‘Peep Inside Space’ by Anna Milbourne

0052: ‘Horton and the Kwuggerbug and more lost stories’ by Dr. Seuss

0053: ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ by Eric Carle

0054: ‘Mr Brown Can Moo! Can You?’ by Dr. Seuss

0055: ‘My Hen is Dancing’ by Karen Wallace

0056: ‘Together’ by Emma Dodd

0057: ‘Oh Say Can You Say?’ by Dr. Seuss

0058: ‘Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now!’ by Dr. Seuss

0059: ‘Yertle the Turtle and other stories’ by Dr. Seuss

0060: ‘Thidwick the Big-Hearted Moose’ by Dr. Seuss

0061: ‘The Sneetches and other stories’ by Dr. Seuss

0062: ‘Willy the Champ’ by Anthony Browne

0063: ‘Hunches in Bunches’ by Dr. Seuss

0064: ‘Horton Hatches the Egg’ by Dr. Seuss

0065: ‘Space’ by Rob Lloyd Jones

0066: ‘Robots, Robots, Everywhere!’ by Sue Fliess

0067: ‘Goodnight Bob’, by Ann and John Hassett

0068: ‘The Lorax’ by Dr. Seuss

0069: ‘What If...?’ by Anthony Browne

0070: ‘Happy Birthday To You!’ by Dr. Seuss

0071: ‘Magpie Learns a Lesson’ by Sally Morgan

0072: ‘Zoom, Zoom: Sounds of Things That Go in the City’ by Robert Burleigh

0073: ‘Go, Dog. Go!’ by P. D. Eastman

0074: ‘Oh the Places You’ll Go!’ by Dr. Seuss

0075: ‘Horton Hears a Who!’ by Dr. Seuss

0076: ‘Daisy-Head Mayzie’ by Dr. Seuss

0077: ‘In a People House’ by Dr. Seuss writing as Theo. LeSieg

0078: ‘Mr. Tickle’ by Roger Hargreaves

0079: ‘Mr. Tall’ by Roger Hargreaves

0080: ‘My Dad’ by Anthony Browne

0081: ‘The Cat Who Lost His Purr’ by Michele Coxon

0082: ‘In the Garden’ by Leslie Bockol

0083: ‘The Bad-Tempered Ladybird’ by Eric Carle

0084: ‘Gossie & Gertie’ by Olivier Dunrea

0085: ‘Breakfast Time for Ernest & Celeste’ by Gabrielle Vincent

0086: ‘Grug and the Big Red Apple’ by Ted Prior

0087: ‘Mr. Strong’ by Roger Hargreaves

0088: ‘Mr. Cool’ by Roger Hargreaves

0089: ‘Mr. Happy’ by Roger Hargreaves

0090: ‘Mr. Chatterbox’ by Roger Hargreaves

0091: ‘Where is the Green Sheep? by Mem Fox and Judy Horacek

0092: ‘A Day With Patch’ by Peter Curry

0093: ‘More’ by I. C. Springman, illustrated by Brian Lies

0094: ‘Playtown: Construction’ by Dan Green

0095: ‘The Five Senses’ by Leslie Bockol

0096: ‘Egrin and the Painted Wizard’ by Amanda Walsh

0097: ‘1000 Things That Go’ by Gabriele Antonini

0098: ‘This Train’ by Paul Collicutt

0099: ‘The Shy Little Kitten’ by Cathleen Schurr

0100: ‘The Whispering Rabbit’ byMargaret Wise Brown

0101: ‘The Tawny Scrawny Lion’ by Kathryn Jackon and Gustaf Tenggren

0102: ‘The Monster at the End of This Book’ by Jon Stone

0103: ‘No Roses for Harry’, by Gene Zion

0104: ‘Jane Eyre: A Counting Primer’ by Jennifer Adams

0105: ‘Frankenstein: An Anatomy Primer’ by Jennifer Adams

0106: ‘Rosie’s Walk’ by Pat Hutchins

0107: ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ by Dr. Seuss

0108: ‘There’s a Wocket in My Pocket’ by Dr. Seuss

0109: ‘Where the Wild Things Are’, by Maurice Sendak

0110: Kissed By the Moon’ by Alison Lester

0111: ‘The Three Robbers’ by Tomi Ungerer

#1000booksb4k #books #babies

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roodiaries · 8 years ago

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Early 2017: Sydney Lights, Hints of the Pacific & Bum-Biting Goannas

The blog is back in AUSTRALIA (as per the theme and name, after the last entry's Asian deviation!) And it's more light-hearted and less moany than before I think :)

New Year in Sydney was an enticing prospect as popular opinion considers it to be one of the best places to celebrate. Clearly how good of a New Year you have depends totally on who you're with, what you do and what mood you're in, with the setting as simply something of a backdrop. That said, seeing in 2017 overlooking Sydney Harbour was one of the best new years I've experienced. The most overhyped night of the year lived up to its billing, one of the few times in my life it's done so (though the last four – in Edinburgh, Montanita, Birmingham & London respectively – have all been good ones).

The return from my December Asia trip was marked by a nasty bout of 7/11-sandwich food poisoning which saw me spew my guts and bile out in a hostel bathroom and cling to the toilet bowl for dear life. I was later told off for coughing too much in bed by a scary middle-aged African lady (from Sierra Leone), forcing me to put my pillow at the other end of the mattress. “Just go to sleep!”, I angrily retorted. She kept making comments aloud to herself in this dorm full of relaxed European male backpackers: “there's too much coughing in this room!...what time is it?...why does everybody hang their washing in here?” It's funny now, but at the time was very jarring. I spoke to her more the next day and she actually seemed quite nice: she just definitely shouldn't have been staying in a dorm room.

New Year came around and a big group of us headed down to village-like Balmain in the midsummer heat, weaving through the rampant picnicking masses ready to eat up the picturesque firework display, many/most with illicit alcoholic beverages tucked away to avoid clashes with the patrolling police. In my opinion, Australia is the most strict country I have ever been to in terms of rules and actual dishing out of fines for minor public disturbances (Singapore included): jay-walking in the city centre can get you a $70 on-the-spot fine; putting your feet on the seat on the train in Melbourne is $233 ($78 for children); not filling out the Census is $180 per day until you do. And alcohol is very carefully controlled: one wild backpacker party on Coogee Beach over Christmas led to the total alcohol ban in the area, which will probably be permanent now. Getting your hands on a beer at a festival or public event can be tricky too, and there were lots of signs up warning against it for New Year. Of course people still drank, but greater efforts were made not to get too rowdy and attract attention (efforts which failed increasingly as the day wore on), so that the family-friendly atmosphere could be maintained. I agree that a family-friendly atmosphere should be preserved for the public good, but the vast majority of people can and do drink responsibly so just leave us alone and let us booze at big events!

We were perched on the grass in a park on the south side of Sydney's twisty harbour (seriously, look at a map: I've never seen a port/harbour with so many coves, bays, inlets, promontories, peninsulas and creeks – it's mesmerising). I brought my friends from the farm days in Renmark to meet my uni chum Mark and his friends, and even bumped into my old colleague Sebastian from when we door-knocked together in Melbourne 9 months previously. It was a good group and a great firework display, with excellent views of the bridge, but a long arduous walk/bus journey home through the packed city.

On New Year's Day, I returned to stay with Adele and her family, also with Sara and her family, for a very homely get-together in Jervis Bay, involving feasts, soft beds, crab-infested mangrove walks and cute boat trips up creeks and bays. I then flew to Brisbane for another little getaway, deciding I had spent about $1000 less than I had anticipated in India & Nepal and so could afford more travelling before the dread-inducing job hunt began again. My long and short-term future seemed very uncertain at this point (long-term future still hasn't been sorted out, and probably never will). I was able to relax nonetheless, and immediately warmed to Queensland's capital and largest city. It seemed more spacious with wider streets and lower-rise buildings, like Adelaide but with greater charm, while also being friendlier and slower-paced than Sydney. It certainly felt like the Sunshine State on first impressions. Adele and I walked the Brisbane River with its summery Southbank swimming pools providing family fun and adding to the holiday atmosphere. The GOMA (Gallery of Modern Art) had some pretty cutting-edge exhibits, like a 22m-long Tongan mat, a scarily realistic large pensive woman in bed and a giant arch of cardboard boxes one inside the other getting progressively smaller, while West End was a cool neighbourhood with a more international and backpacker vibe (I spent a couple of nights here later). Mount Coot-tha provided a panoramic view of the city from the west; there were also some nice walking tracks and Turrbal aboriginal art designs in the surrounding forests.

Aboriginal Australia, away from well-worn narratives of horrors at the hands of European settlers in the past 230 years, is a mysterious, diverse and fascinating culture to explore. Or more correctly, cultures, since there were more distinct Aboriginal 'nations', speaking over 300 languages, on the continent when the First Fleet arrived in 1788 than there are countries in the world today. Only around 3% of the population of modern-day Australia is considered indigenous (Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders), and there are only token remnants of Aboriginal culture in the main cities: an occasional sign-post, some hiking tracks, information boards. Here are some of the oldest continuous human cultures in the world, believed to be at least 60,000 years old, and discovering more about them is definitely a high priority during my time here.

Talking of culture, we paid a visit to the Castlemaine-Perkins (XXXX) Brewery, my third brewery tour in Australia! XXXX isn't my favourite of the extensive Aussie beer selection but a classic one nonetheless and well advertised (“well you wouldn't want a warm beer!”) Just on the beer note, Australia does have a surprisingly good and extensive collection of beers, especially pale ales. My favourites are Little Creatures, James Squire 50 Lashes, Kosciuszko and Lazy Yak. Try them some time (they have some in bars in the UK too, e.g. Sheffield Tap).

In the following days, I had the chance to catch up with a few friends from my previous travels, such as Hanna, who I worked with as strawberry-pickers in the Huon Valley; and Gaby from the Loja period; as well as Alex Dodd, also from Loja days: we had a barbecue in his apartment and travelled with a few others down to Burleigh Heads on the Gold Coast. Though not able to match their high level of several-dozen kick-ups in casual beach footie, it was an amazing spot to jump in the waves and watch the professional surfing.

By the time I was leaving Brisbane, I'd decided to make my way back to Sydney by land for a sort-of-roadtrip before completing my plan of finding a job in Sydney and saving up. I hitched a ride down from Brissie to Byron Bay with a cool Kiwi surfer called Bertus I'd found on one of the Facebook backpacker groups. I actually had nowhere booked for Byron, and began to stress about it as we drew nearer and I saw how packed it was. 'I'll just sleep on the beach', I'd told myself before... But the reality of that is harder and more unpredictable than it seems, unless you're a more confident, battle-hardened outdoorsy adventurer than I currently am. I was warned of druggies, drunk backpackers, cold, animals and police, and suddenly became really desperate for a hostel bed. I traipsed from one to another, even trying the most garish and unashamedly wacky & backpackery of backpacker hostels, but there was no room at the inn. Finally I did discover one very new whitewashed and spacious refuge called Byron Bay Beach Hostel, where the manager even gave me a random discount (still $45, the most I've paid for a hostel in Oz). In spite of my immense relief, the extremely hot/badly ventilated rooms and the incredible rudeness of a giant group of French-speakers in not making any effort to speak to me when I joined them outside, marred the evening considerably. To those who haven't travelled in Australia or seen The Inbetweeners 2, Byron Bay is the most popular and bigged-up traveller resort in the whole country: famed for its chilled-out hippie vibes, artisan soul, party culture and great beaches, it's a must-see for anyone travelling the east coast. Unfortunately, I simply wasn't in the mood. However, the coastal hike up to the lighthouse (via Cape Byron, the most easterly point in mainland Australia) was excellent. The guided tour of the lighthouse itself was bizarrely run by a group of charming Americans in their 60s/70s!

I'd felt the need for a dose of a quieter life as a tonic to hectic east coast life, so I spent one week at a homestay found on the HelpX website. It was in a lush green corner of north-eastern New South Wales, near the town of Casino, at the farmstead of a couple called Sue & Keith. I met another English guy there named Cameron (from Swindon), who was studying in Melbourne, and enjoyed having a companion to share the adventures here with. Most activities were dictated by the incredible heat at the time, reaching 40 degrees but with suffocatingly high humidity levels. The shed-building work usually lasted only 45 minutes before we were all simply too hot to continue, and I can honestly not remember any time where I was sweating more than for this week, especially at dinner time when we'd just returned from a trip up to the 'internet cafe' hill (the only place nearby with phone signal) and sat down over hot food, delicious as it always was. Perspiration dripped from shirtless chests like rain during a monsoon, and I required multiples showers and 20-minute sessions sitting directly in front of the fan to remain un-cooked. Dinner time was also when normally-quiet Keith would unleash his strong views on many topics, from travelling to the state of the local government: he had particularly strong political views of a surprisingly bitter and right-leaning perspective for a man who had travelled so extensively, seeing Trump as the man to lead the free world and holding contempt for Obama, describing Zimbabwean dictator Robert Mugabe as a “mild version of Obama.” Fox News was seldom not on in the background with Bill O'Reilly and his “no-spin zone” an evening routine, more amusing than offensive for Cam and me.

We helped feed the myriad chickens, hens, ducks, geese, rabbits and guinea-pigs scattered in the junk-maze front yard. The amount of random stuff/junk surrounding the house was incredible. One day we were called upon to kill a sharp-clawed goanna (Aussie monitor lizard) that was caught biting the bum of a duck. That was a pain in the arse for everyone involved. It hid up a tree and refused to come down to face us. One day involved a funny 6hr roundtrip to the Gold Coast to pick up a spa and a water tank, which we were very worried about flying off, and spent a long time securing them on the back of the ute with ropes. We also had the opportunity to meet some of the long-term lodgers at the farm, some of whom were on drugs rehab and benefits. It was a good place to come to get away from it all (for them and me), and a different perspective on Australia to what I've normally been exposed to, meeting people at a different end of the spectrum to the city kids, high-flyers and international traveller circles.

Cam and I left the farm and headed down to Coffs Harbour on the train. Coffs has the unique privilege of being located at the point where the Great Dividing Range (Australia's only real mountain range) meets the Pacific Ocean to form a beautiful backdrop, topped off with a literally huge banana, a jumpable pier and picturesque harbour. We met a German guy called Jonas and two English girls (Becky and Helen) at the YHA, and together cycled around the surprisingly large coastal town, enduring some intimidating hills and a roaring motorway, but stopping for a dip to get hammered by the powerful waves, and then drinking goon (crap, boxed wine) at the hostel over cards.

The last stop on the Unexpected East Coast Adventure was the inland small-city of Tamworth, known throughout Australia as the nation's capital of all things country music and equestrian: “an antipodean Nashville,” as the guidebook described it. It was the busiest period of the year, as the annual Country Music Festival was beginning the day we arrived, and the streets were alive with the sound of (country) music: a few genuine cowboy and hillbilly types among the masses of pretend ones, dominated by middle-aged holidaymakers and committed locals letting loose with their families. We barbecued in the nature reserve beneath a baking hot sun with my friend Rose from other Aussie adventures, and went to see some lively performances (especially one band called Lonesome Train, led by an electric and skinny ladies'-man singer who seemed 20 years younger than he actually was). The festival was a lot of fun, and we met a few interesting characters. One was one of the aforementioned middle-aged Aussie let-loosers, whose kid stole my stool when I went to the bar; half-an-hour after what I thought had been a light-hearted altercation, (while he'd been sitting next to me the whole time watching the singers on stage) he casually said: “sorry about that before... but if it was 20 years ago, I would have smacked you in the mouth.” He then proceeded to drunkenly chat semi-aggressively, telling me anecdotes about a barman from Essex: “black as the ace of spades he was. Absolute tosser...” Something told me this guy was the real tosser! Another memorable night was when Cam and I got roped into a night-out with a bunch of 19 year-old locals shouting at the back of the bus (the kind of people you dread talking to you) and had to toss our bags into a bush on the way while holding the bus because otherwise we'd have to wait half an hour. It turned out to be a fun night out in this sparky little city.

I was worried but motivated upon my return to Sydney to stop spending and start saving. Putting a cashed-up bogan to shame, I'd spent a lot and was now in the hibernation, total-survival mentality where I write down exactly what I spend – including money given to homeless people – and rule my finances with an iron fist. It had been worth it, however, for this opportunity to finally explore some of the places most-discussed in backpacker circles and experience part of the Aussie east coast. Though a fun adventure, I didn't feel the east coast lived up to the hype, lacking a certain cutting edge or unpredictability. The best thing about it is the sheer ocean-beach-coastline scenery, which was boundless and inspiring, as well as the people I'd met (sorry for the cliché). I met some shit ones, too, though ;)

Back to the future: I found a job and I will talk about a more settled life in Sydney in the next blog entry, and perhaps more about Australia as a country, too.

Thanks a lot for reading! Scroll down for photos and the previous four articles.

Oliver

#Australia2017 #LongestTimeAway #EastCoast #ByronBay #Brisbane #CoffsHarbour #Tamworth #Casino #BlackAsTheAceOfSpades #MildVersionOfObama #KillThatGoanna

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