Back To Brooklyn
We had an unexpected afternoon together this afternoon, so I decided to take the boys down to Brooklyn to show them where my parents had their boat and where I feel I grew up.
Even when we were kids there was talk of how Brooklyn would become the new posh satellite suburb of Sydney, but we never really saw it happen. A few modern architectural houses popped up here and there, but there were still more weather beaten houses with goats tied to frangipani trees in the front yard, than chic summer houses.
Driving through the main drag this afternoon I was pleased to see that the town looked the same, only a little shinier. There's quite a hip cafe on the corner where the newsagent was, and a cool fish and chips bar has popped up opposite the station. And the Angler's Rest - the pub on the corner where Mum once broke down on a hot summer afternoon with us kids in the back, dying of embarrassment, while the rednecks at the tables hooted at her - is still there, unscathed by gastro-pub interior design firms.
Down at Parsley Bay I pointed out where our boats were moored over the years. We peered down the river, me trying to explain the beaches, God's own, hidden around the corners, accessible only by boat. We decided to scramble over the rocks and around the headland to the first, Sandy Beach. The slimy mud and oyster shells, razor sharp at low tide thwarted us. We turned back.
We drove around to the marina and played in the park. The tide was too low to swim but Cal enjoyed racing his scooter up and down the footpath along the water's edge with a couple of local brothers. I chatted to their mum, a girl my age who had embraced the classic 'Sea Change', moving with her sonographer husband and their two small boys to Wobby, the tiny settlement across the water that's only accessible by boat. They had sold their flat in Coogee 5 years ago and when I asked if the move was permanent she said that now they'd survived the hard years of ferrying two small children back and forth across the river in the boat with the shopping, that they were 'stayers'. I quite envy people whose industries allow them to live outside of Sydney. She said she could never leave the peace of the river behind now. Lucky girl.
We tried the fish and chips opposite the station and then drove home, sure to be back when the tide is higher for a swim.
Even when we were kids there was talk of how Brooklyn would become the new posh satellite suburb of Sydney, but we never really saw it happen. A few modern architectural houses popped up here and there, but there were still more weather beaten houses with goats tied to frangipani trees in the front yard, than chic summer houses.
Driving through the main drag this afternoon I was pleased to see that the town looked the same, only a little shinier. There's quite a hip cafe on the corner where the newsagent was, and a cool fish and chips bar has popped up opposite the station. And the Angler's Rest - the pub on the corner where Mum once broke down on a hot summer afternoon with us kids in the back, dying of embarrassment, while the rednecks at the tables hooted at her - is still there, unscathed by gastro-pub interior design firms.
Down at Parsley Bay I pointed out where our boats were moored over the years. We peered down the river, me trying to explain the beaches, God's own, hidden around the corners, accessible only by boat. We decided to scramble over the rocks and around the headland to the first, Sandy Beach. The slimy mud and oyster shells, razor sharp at low tide thwarted us. We turned back.
We drove around to the marina and played in the park. The tide was too low to swim but Cal enjoyed racing his scooter up and down the footpath along the water's edge with a couple of local brothers. I chatted to their mum, a girl my age who had embraced the classic 'Sea Change', moving with her sonographer husband and their two small boys to Wobby, the tiny settlement across the water that's only accessible by boat. They had sold their flat in Coogee 5 years ago and when I asked if the move was permanent she said that now they'd survived the hard years of ferrying two small children back and forth across the river in the boat with the shopping, that they were 'stayers'. I quite envy people whose industries allow them to live outside of Sydney. She said she could never leave the peace of the river behind now. Lucky girl.
We tried the fish and chips opposite the station and then drove home, sure to be back when the tide is higher for a swim.
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