Eucalypt move imminent!

This week, in fact. So I'm deep in admin and oven cleaning. Noice. I'm also critiquing a manuscript (you know who you are) and I'm almost done with that and hope to get it sent back before the move. It's good, by the way.

If I have time I'll check the koala stats tomorrow. In the meantime, here's a little Princess story.

A couple of weeks ago we went en famille to a historic site on Sydney harbour. We joined a guided tour of a series of old buildings, as part of a fairly large group of people. As we wandered in and out of the buildings, Princess swiftly abandoned us for the far more interesting company of the tour guide and before we knew it she was pretty much at the front of the group, chitter chattering away to the poor guide and generally leading the way. The guide, a young woman, didn't seem perturbed, so we let Princess get on with it and trailed along at the back of the group, trying to persuade Soccer Boy that this really was an interesting experience.

As we peered dutifully around an ancient kitchen (look, Soccer Boy, imagine cooking on that old oven! look, Mum, rat droppings in the sink!) we became aware of laughter outside, where the main part of the group had proceeded. Eventually, as the laughter grew louder, we made our way outside. There was a spectacular view of Sydney harbour just outside this building and the tour group was lined up like a bus load of Japanese tourists, cameras at the ready. Nobody was actually taking photos, though, they were all too busy laughing. Because Princess, having detached herself from the tour guide, thought she knew what they really wanted photos of. What? Princess, of course! So there she was, standing in the front of this spectacular view, obligingly striking a series of her favourite fashion poses, hands on hip, pouty lips, the whole lot. After rugby tackling her out of the viewfinders I asked her what she thought she was doing. 'I thought they would like a photo of me.' Of course. Silly me. Why didn't I think of that. With all of Sydney harbour spread out before you, who wouldn't want a photo of a strange six-year old child?