Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Portarlington Happy Birthday Mum
Do not ask my mother how she is. I never do. I find out anyway. Everyone does. She does have some serious medical problems but she is alive enough to accept my sister's birthday gift to her, a few days in a 'luxury' cabin at Portarlington Caravan Park, sorry, Portarlington Seaside Resort.
R and I journeyed to Portarlington a year or so ago and found it to be a rather nice place. I wrote about it at the time.
We had an idea of staying there Saturday and then meeting up with Mum and my step father on Sunday, but everything was booked out. Portarlington, Indented Head (I put an 's' in there but took it out when I read my old post, and it was Grand Prix weekend two years ago), St Leonards, Queenscliff, Ocean Grove and Barwon heads. I tried the lot, hotels, motels and caravan parks. I have never done B&Bs, and don't intend to.
Mum's accommodation was nice enough in an almost bush like setting and the beach a hundred metres away. Luxury villa is stretching the description a bit though.
We had a slapping afternoon tea, sandwiches, cheese, biscuits, dips, crisps, grapes and cakes.
Ah don't mention the cakes. My mother is allergic to almost every food stuff known to womankind. I surprised she can eat anything. She ate the top layer of her piece of her birthday sponge and left the lower half.
It is not often I cry with laughter, but when my sister smeared some of the cream over my mother's face, it was a hoot. My sister had made some honey dews, which I had never heard of. They are corn flakes with honey on them. Quite uninteresting. They had not stuck together well. The honey was still honey. So of course Mother, if you tip them upside down, everything will fall out of the paper cup and make a terribly sticky mess.
Mother disappeared inside with the word 'bin' meaning she was putting the lower half of the cake, the bit with the jam and cream, in the bin. She reappeared with cream at the corners of her mouth.
'Bin she said', I cried out. 'Look at the cream on the corners of her mouth.' We were hysterical by this time.
They are there until Tuesday. I am kinda envious, but I don't enjoy that sort of holiday like I used to when we had dogs. Salty wet dogs, sand everywhere, tennis balls thrown in the sea for fetching, driftwood retrieved, rolling in stinking seaweed on the beach and finding disgusting animal matter. I am tearing up.