Another opportunity for a Family Day and wanting to avoid trains for a moment, we head back to Kilcunda, which we’ve visited before.
It was lovely then, and we figured we’d have another great day whilst we were there. It was fun.
Off we go, even remembering to take a change of clothes (well, really, I mentioned it to all three children several times, provided a bag in which to place their change of clothes and left them to it) and grabbed a couple of beach towels, Just In Case.
Along the way we spotted, again, the Underpants On The Hill … a formation of trees that look, depending on who in the car you speak to, like underpants.
Monkey Boy pointed it out originally and Grumpy Pants being Grumpy Pants advised it looked “more like a map of Tassie”, a statement he made that was also overflowing with innuendo.
This, inevitable, spiralled downwards, into a discussion about waxed bikini lines, camel toes (I have NO idea, but that came from Chippie) and an argument broke out as to whether it was a map of Tasmania (complete with innocent look), a pair of underpants or, according to Chippie a “VAGINA!”
I suspect he actually wasn’t so much contributing his thoughts to the discussion as being ignored whilst conversation was going on around him and wanting to have some attention.
I guess we’ll never know.
A bite at the pub, a walk to the nearby beach and disappointment descends as we discover the base of the train bridge is blocked off. I could literally feel the annoyance wafting off Monkey Boy, his love of climbing thwarted by a length of bright orange industrial netting.
He had no hesitation in expressing it, either.
Still, he and I did a little bit of climbing, Not feeling terribly confident in the surface we were climbing, I head down, with an “I wouldn’t go that way” over my shoulder to Monkey Boy.
Meanwhile, Grumpy Pants and Chippie had gone in search of a toilet, as a desire to poo crash landed on Chippie with no warning, and Godzilla ran off in the other direction to play in a body of water.
Monkey Boy, heading off and up in the direction I suggested he don’t informs me he is stuck. I advise him to come back and turn my head to make sure Godzilla hasn’t drowned or done something stupid.
I hear a soft rumbling, and turn to find Monkey Boy on the ground, some 3 to 4 metres lower than what he had been a second ago. His left hand whips around to grasp his ribs on his right side and all I can think is