When, punkin, one joins one's parents on a shakedown cruise in a new car, there are some fundamental criteria that should be observed.
Certainly, should the weather be ever so slightly inclement, then any such drive should include a stop somewhere around the furthest point from home for coffee.
And cake.
Naturally, when one is deciding where to drop in for said coffee and cake, one should drop in to the place that is likely to have the best coffee, and ideally the best cake, within the region that one is traversing at the time.
So.
If one is, for instance, somewhere in what is so quaintly known as "spa country" in western Victoria, one should immediately make a beeline for Daylesford, and right off the main road to Ballan is a little known collection of shacks called "The Lake House".
This, punkin, is where you should stop for coffee. And cake. Oh yes you should have cake. From memory it was, in this case, a delicious warming Quince and Frangipani tart, with delightful hints of brown sugar and cinnamon. They didn't have any coffee for you, but you were most taken by the warm frothy milk on offer, along with my biscotti.
I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but your mum and dad had their honeymoon at the Lake House. It's a place that holds a very special place in our hearts. To us, it speaks of love and of togetherness, it reminds us, when we are there, of the special bond that we have with each other.
And that, punkin, is what you do for us every minute of every day. You, Bramble, are the living embodiment of the love that your mother and I share. To take you to the Lake House was a very special moment for us.
One of the things that I often thought about, when you were still either a twinkle in my eye or a rapidly growing tiny person in your mum, was how much I wanted to show you the places that are special to me. That I couldn't wait, for instance, to take you to Healesville to show you the wild cornucopia of creatures that make up our brown land.
Taking you to the Lake House was one of the first steps in that process. A process you ably assisted by taking some of your first steps while we were there.
It's only in the last week or so that you've started to view walking as your primary means of perambulation, and it's a very strange shift in how we relate to you. You're suddenly much closer.
Your grammy has some extra specially exciting news for you, but I'm going to let her tell you.
Love you,
7 comments:
Good Morning Abraham William,
I guess that this is the first of the many secrets that we will have. Please tell your Dad that I told you our exciting news about a week ago. And please tell him that you are now in training for serious 'But Grammy/Grandad Phil said I could' discussions, and preparing to enjoy lots of Grandad's bread (we know you love that) in just a few short months.
Meanwhile we are cleaning out (don't tell your dad but his old bike helmet went in the rubbish yesterday), and beginning the long process of saying good bye.
We've been lucky to have had good friends here, people who enjoy good food and a glass of nice wine. We hope that one day you might meet some of them in Melbourne. We're certainly inviting them.
I love you Brambill, and your Dad & Mum and Unky Dave and the puppies
I hope it was my bike helmet that went into the trash, not my awesome and extremely cool Jet Fighter Pilot helmet that I have specifically asked you to bring home for me...
What Jet Fighter Helmet?
My orange jet fighter pilot helmet.
That I bought at the Falmouth Lion's Club Auction.
For a quarter.
That Unky Steve and Unky Dave and I wore while travelling down the Extreme Toboggan Run of Death (tm) (i.e. the driveway)
Oh - that Jet Fighter Pilot helmet.
Dude... totally wasted Daylesford at The Lakehouse. Go forth to the backery further down the road.
backery. Right... bakery. *rolls* One day I'll let my fingers catch up with my brain.
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