What I'd planned to be a girlie retreat turned out quite different.
Mum packed almost all the pantry's contents,
Second-IC matriarch packed her son along,
And I-
Well, I forgot the beer, camera, and ear plugs.

Day 1
We set off at 11am.
As we enter the South Gippsland Highway I realise that I've forgotten to take the camera. What a fucking idiot- because it was the one thing I was told to be responsible for.
Shit. And the beer. I could almost get by without cigarettes at the beach, but beer?
We arrive a little more than 2 hours later.
A slight no-child policy mishap later,
I'm at the beach, entertaining my 3-year old nephew for a good three hours.
Dinner:
After walking out of two fish-and-chips shops in utter disgust-
"It'll be at least an hour-and half wait for ONE fisherman's basket",
We settle on charcoal chicken and potato salad.

Day 2
We are awakened by hay-fever symptoms at 1.30am.
They all mutter 'Happy Birthday'.
We do the breakfast thing - in a nice place on the esplanade, complete with screaming children and typically country-slow service.
They decide to go to a wildlife park,
I decline.
I nap, then decide that the if-ey sun is good enough for me.
It must be my lucky day-
As I begin the 30 minute walk to the beach
They drive right past and so I get a ride (on condition that I take my nephew along).
My birthday:
I get to spend the afternoon with a three-year old,
Building sand castles, swatting off flies, chasing the waves, and playing mum.
The sun, when kind enough,
Blessed button noses, tanned shoulder blades, and sandfly-bitten feet.
We have dinner at a cute little French bistro.
The night ends with an excursion to the penguin parade.
As the pink sky darkens and wild winds blow from Bass Strait
I think that this would have been a perfect birthday had I been five.
The penguins are little, but fascinating (no, really!).