Only the British can build Sand Castles

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Left alone on a pristine beach miles from nowhere, the wind sweeping through our hair (yes our - it is getting quite long) what better way to spend a day is there, but through the ancient and dignified art of Sand Castle building. To exhibit our art and our obvious coolness with bucket and spade we chose the tranquil cove of Marion Bay. Seven miles of golden beach, turqouise sea and not a sole in sight to disturb us and our creative juices. Plus it was just alone the road, actually, in Tasmania a beach is always 'just along the road'. Our first castle (yes first) was built in the medieval-barouqe, french-inspired, Krak-de-Chevalie-esqe 'heap of big piles'. However, after countless hours work and no disturbance except from the fact the sea was going out not in, our masterpiece began to take shape. A mighty constuct complete with outer wall, guard towers and a em... pig sty (nic insisted). Not to mention all the mod-cons essential for new castle living. Wells, jousting arena, forrest on the doorstep, river system, peasant huts, fencing for the animals (her again) and many many shells. There were horses and people and ... well the list goes on.

Unfortuantely, as the sea was on its way out not in and the glorious destruction of it all (the best bit) was due at about 2 am we decided to give it a miss, we would just have to come back tomorrow!

This is the beauty of two weeks in one place. For six months we had packed, un-packed, packed on a frantic three daily basis, never knowing for certain if we would find a bed for the night or who/what we might be sharing it with. Each new hotel room filled with strange smells, strange stains and even stranger bed spreads. Finally, however, this had stopped. Two whole weeks of TV, Hot Chocolate and enough tea to play our part in the ever growing water shortage across the continent. Tassy was to be our home from home, our wilderness getaway. Us time.

Except that is for Trevor.

Being in the middle of nowhere we hoped our wildlife spotting would not be purely limited to Road Kill (unfortunately the only Tassy Devil we saw) and thankfully we were not to be dissapointed. Wallabies hoped round the house, owls lived in the trees and strange eyes followed you from the shadows when the bin went out at night. Reportedly there was also a 'friendly' snake living near the house, but we mutally decided to give each other a wide berth. However, as we were to discover not all wildlife is shy and scared of human contact.
Trevor, was our cheecky chappie local possum. At first just an occasional night time visitor, he soon turned into a loveable pet and Nic's new best friend. He craved attention and when he didn't get it he would jump on the deck causing the entire house to shake. He would spend nights prowling around eating bugs on the windows (when he was paying enough attention to catch them) and generally looking at us mournfully through the glass trying to work the best way to get in. It didn't take long for him to realise that Nic was his only chance and so spent nights following her from kitchen to lounge, staring longingly, just wanting to be loved. Early attempts at entry involved him hanging precariously from the mozzie screen as it rocked to and fro along the rails. He was sure this kind of cute behaviour would gain his entry to the girl that kept feeding him apple cores (so was I for a while). But her nerve held and despite numerous photo shoots and begging gestures Trevor remained out in the cold. For a while he visted every night and when it was time to leave and he hadn't shown you could almost see the tears in Nic's eyes. But wait right on cue, who appears but Trevor, strutting his way across the deck and pooing everywhere. The joy was unparallelled on the trip so far as Nic got out to wave goodbye to him for the last time.

P.S. I had to check her bag at the airport.

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