I was planning on going to Melbourne. I still am. Just not this week. Due to unforeseen circumstances I've had to cancel the first half of my trip. Instead I've made a very overdue pilgrimage to visit my family in Forster.
For those of you not familiar, Forster is between 2 1/2 and 6 hours drive north of Sydney. This is dependent on if you are travelling (probably not legally) with my li'l' bro' or with Captain Obvious who is the only person I know that doesn't beat his postcards home. Apparently (according to Google maps) it should take a normal human 3 1/2 hours to do the drive. Almost the entirety of my Mum's side of the family lives up here. Here, where there's always a spare bed for me. Here, where I'm always welcome. Here, is my second home.
I've been up for a couple of days now, read two books and started a third already, walked the dogs, spotted wildlife, and that perpetual knot in my shoulders has loosened itself into a bow. I've just finished lunch with my Grandfather, my tea is cooling and will be ready to drink shortly. We had prawns. It's funny how a simple sensation can really epitomise a place or a memory. Today it was my prawn sanga. They'd been cooked in the water from the river and with a single mouthful I really truly felt like I was finally here in Forster.