Another year of enriching family traditions.

A collection of cameraphone photos from Summer 24-25.

A little strawberry left over from spring.

Blooming agapanthus on a morning stroll through North Adelaide.

Golden Hour at the beach.

Red hot chilies for a red hot summer day.

Up before the sun on another hot morning.

Nash doing her best Jaws impression with one of her takeaway sausage rolls during the Christmas bakery shut down.

Road trip wind turbines.

Family moments near mountains.

Victorian high country.

Not rain, sprinklers.

Up early for cheap fruit and vegetables.

Another day drifting closer to the sun.

Nash enjoys sunbaking.

Frangipani

Sand snail eggs reflecting the hot sun's fading light.

A joyous moment on a cafe visit before work and heat.

On January 25th on our traditional morning walk to the markets my ankle swelled up so badly I could barely limp back home. It recovered a little with ice and rest, enough that I could get in a legless workout before going to an open house. We decided to make an offer for the house. The next morning I woke up at 4:40am for a road trip to Merrijig.

Every day since then has felt like a hurtling drive with stops only for coffee (it's okay Alex) and every night feels like I woke at 4:40am that morning.

We bought a new house, and then decided to sell our old one. I've dedicated days to spreadsheets, cleaning, furniture, finances, work and inopportune holiday plans. My ankle has been pretty sore most of that time. I thought I had gout so I gave up beer. Then when that didn't help I gave up beer and dairy. I spent over a week without a proper smoothie, coffee, thing of yoghurt. What a terrible way to live. Anyway when the MRI came back as ligament damage and arthritis at least I could drink a beer again.

I also spent a week living without carpet. I also was the one who ripped up our old carpets. I just put on Triple M's greatest hits, and lucky I was back on dairy because I also had an ice coffee, and I just cut into it and pulled it up. I had a new knife, plus gloves and a dust mask from big box hardware. One of many trips to there this month.

Carpet is such a fragile thing. It's in your life in your house and you never once think about what's under it and then a few slices of the knife and you roll it up into a roll and gaff it together and it's gone. Houses in general are stupid things. I've felt this way for so long. All you really want is shelter from the sun and if rain exists, the rain, and warmth, and high speed internet. Why do we need cornices and grout and matching coloured cabinets. I've spent so many hours cleaning things since Merrijig that I didn't shave for a week because I couldn't get my hand clean enough to touch my face.

And the dryness is relentless. Now we don't even have upstairs curtains. Heat, clean, work, sleep, repeat. I also haven't been to the gym for nearly two weeks. Although our storage unit is on the second floor of the storage building, so I have done many rounds of storage cardio. I've lost 3 kilograms since January. Maybe from storage cardio, maybe from abstaining from beer and dairy.

Tonight, finally, the house was ready for photos. The new carpet was laid. The terrible paint job was concealed. All the new furniture was arranged and Vanessa had them styled with cushions and books. The floors were mopped, windows wiped, the back courtyard pressure washed, the garden pruned, the front door washed, the new rug vacuumed, the bed sheets ironed, the shower screens scrubbed, the cardboard boxes cut up, the crevices dusted. The photographer admired the pizza oven, took the sunset shot, and it was done. Finally, tomorrow can be a day to breathe. The last thing I cleaned was myself. And I shaved.

I took a walk this morning with Vanessa and Nash. We bought coffee from the cafe across the road and drank it on the walk home for our 8:30 meetings. I tilted my head back right before the last corner so I could swallow the final taste of flat white, and I really liked the look of the clouds.

The dictionary definition of a "bay" is "a broad inlet of the sea where the land curves inwards". But Watsons Bay, as a Sydney locality, is kind of the inverse. A head on the eastern suburbs like a broad outlet of land where the sea curves outwards.

On a holiday, this means...

Sunrise by the Sea.

Breakfast by the Sea.

Birds by the Sea.

Trees by the Sea.

Paddleboarding by the Sea.

Post Paddleboarding Beer by the Sea.

Naps by the Sea.

Walking by the Sea.

Sculptures by the Sea.

Sunset by the Sea.

Basically, the Sea by the Sea

I'm mostly responsible when it comes to sunscreen, but my legs tend to be neglected probably more than they should. It's a combination of their surface area, the hairiness, plus the effort of bending down. But, expecting a decent amount of outdoor activity today I creamed up both legs. It immediately commenced raining, was cloudy the entire day, and the UV peaked at 4.

We started our morning with a walk to Lady Bay and to the lighthouse, then back for buffet breakfast and I ate three types of pastries. Then another walk around the South Head cliffs and another coffee before taking the ferry to Manly.

The rain drizzled for most of the following hours, but it didn't stop us from strolling up the Corso, along the water to Shelly Beach, to some rainforests and great views along the North Head walking trails and across more sand in the rain.

After all that walking we had lunch at a Lebanese restaurant by the water and the Lamb Shawarma came with five mini pitas. So I effectively ate four yiros. Then I had a beer at Felons before we rode the ferry back for some long awaited shoe removal.

Note to self: Add feature to include daily step count on journal entries.

The secret to not needing a beer after mowing the lawn is to do it in the morning instead of the evening right before cooking the BBQ.

I tried everything possible to eradicate the mosquitoes from the water feature in my backyard. I added a pump to aerate the water (well I paid some guy to do that). I added plants. I dumped in NoMoz every few months. I even added a school of white cloud minnows back in 2022 to try and help, although they all died probably from birds or those days in summer I walked outside and found the water level nearly bottomed out.

I also made a lot of effort to control the algae, with slightly better results although not that much better.

Despite the bug spray and the thermacell it's basically a guarantee that I'll be eaten by a mosquito any time I'm out there having a snack, gardening, or encouraging Nash to do her business so that I can get to bed.

Vanessa is also sick of mosquitos, and after enduring my attempts for the last few years she made the call this weekend to dump out the water, remove the pump and fill the pond with dirt instead. Good luck breeding in dirt, mosquitos! I'm pretty sure they can, but maybe a lot less.

I really enjoy the trickle and burble of the water feature the couple of times a month I go out there without my noise cancelling headphones on, but given I'd had my chance with the pond I was happy to give her approach a try.

So while I was mowing the lawn, Vanessa was flushing out the water and tipping in the left over soil and potting mix I had from planting the tomatoes last month.

The issue arose when I spotted a fish, darting back under the cover of the big shaft thing in the middle of the pond, after probably sticking his head out to see what was going on with the water. This was not expected. I don't recall seeing any of the fish for at least a year. I'd assumed they were all dead, but there was one (maybe even two) hero fish still living through the worst of my neglect in the water and doing its best to eat as many mosquito larvae as possible.

I am kind to animals. I mean, I am digesting beef, pork and chicken simultaneously while writing this, so I'm not perfect and I seem to have an intolerance to legumes which doesn't help. But I didn't kill my omelette ingredients myself and I slow down for birds on the road and I have a dog that has a better diet than most of the humans in history. And I've also killed a lot of mosquitos, and technically the other 8-9 white cloud minnows that were no longer in the pond with the survivor. What I am arriving at was the dilemma - was saving this one fish's life worth abandoning the gardening work and dealing with more mosquito bites?

The answer was, sadly, no. And I felt really bad about this, and thankfully it was Vanessa who did the dirty work while I pruned some irises.

Kurt Cobain once said fish don't have any feelings and I've never forgotten that, and I took some solace in the words as the hero fish went to his grave to become fertiliser for some lilies.

Fish may not have feelings, but I do, and that's why I am writing this long post to celebrate the fish's life even though I also feel responsible for its death. He must have dealt with a lot of trying circumstances and he probably killed a lot of mosquitos. Although not enough, in the end.

This evening, when enough time had passed from the morning's yard work that the fish was most certainly dead, I was pouring a drink of water from the filter jug when Vanessa noticed that the bottom of the jug was a cloudy jungle of algae.

This seemed fair. I now have a poltergeist fish who will haunt me forever. Or maybe it was because the weather was warm and I left the jug on the windowsill.

I have not been looking forward to turning 40, and it certainly wasn't something that made it on to my "Things to do this summer" list when I started my journal in November 2001.

I've never forgotten turning 30, and 20, and on both occasions being overwhelmed by existential dread that a milestone was passing that I could never return to. That a barrier now existed between my youth and myself, and that I was edging only closer to death.

Well in hindsight it turns out both those times I still had youth on my side, and now I have the life experience to know for certain that a barrier between my youth and myself now exists and I am edging only closer to death.

But, other than dying, what can you do to avoid turning 40? Nothing, you just live as best you can, helpless in the epoch, admiring the flowers occasionally and wondering if there are things you should be trying to do before the day arrives. But there's nothing.

And when it finally happens you expect relief because at least now it's over, but it's even worse than you expected.

You wake up and eat cake for breakfast and go for a walk with your dog and wife and you see family and drink coffee and eat more cake and look at the ocean and feel the sunlight and smell the jasmine on the breeze and pat your dog and talk to friends and beat Connections on the toilet and do forty-five minutes of stretching and rehab and some single leg squats.

And that's why I don't want to turn 40. Because I could do this every day forever.