There’s a hole in the fence where the kids get in

Summer holidays just got better. There’s a brand new gate in our fence between us and the neighbours. Now the kids next door suddenly appear at my elbow while we are at the dinner table. “Oh hello!” I say, as they survey the food, and “Goodbye!” as they dash off again with shouts of “See you at 10am!”. My kids disappear for hours on end (well, an hour on end anyway), snacks are in high demand, there are spontaneous picnics, secret tamagotchi clubs under the bottlebrush trees and elaborate games about getting lost, getting killed (!), running away, joining a war, riding horses and camping out.  There’s constant dashing through the gate as the games get more manic and finally it’s 6 o’clock and the kids are exhausted and hopefully will sleep ALL NIGHT.

Four kids are a lot noisier than two, and (gawd) you have to remember to close the bathroom door, and there’s a lot of mess at the end of the day, and there’s the occasional barney, or prickle or hunger-pang which needs seeing to – but this afternoon I got to sit and write at the kitchen table for two hours straight with barely an interruption. Awesome. I hope the novelty doesn’t wear off too soon.

Seachange without changing postcode

This is the view that can be seen from our bedroom window. The people who bought the block of land next door have subdivided the property and are building a two story, three bedroom town house in the backyard. This is the first floor, one more to come. It’s unbelievably compact and scarily close to our fence. But, that’s progress, hey? And I try to look at the positives, like – I guess it’s a good thing to be building up suburbia so that we prevent the greater suburban sprawl… but I am starting to feel just a tad hemmed in, what with this and the other place on the other side of us towering over our yard.

(And yes, they killed the creeper on the fence.)

So my urge to uproot and run for the hills has intensified – but in the meantime, I plant my vegies and think about how there are things that can be done right here which will make me feel like we are a little closer to my fantasy life of rural bliss. It’s really just a state of mind — right?

(I nicked the title from the Slow Guide: Melbourne blog – thanks Martin – it’s my new ethos).