An Australian take on Frogs legs

No seriously today is culture and learning in an easy to read style. Captain Cook was ‘ere

 

Banks, the flora and fauna fetishist, ancestor of previously referred to wall artist, is noted on a piece of stone here

Junior decides to tell me about the most poisonous spider in the world which we encounter in the craft shop. It looks like a daddy long legs ……but it has no teeth so can’t bite SO how did they find out then?

Did I mention we were looking for fish and chips, via the most famous...... erm one of the most famous….ok most deserted beaches in the world.

Bondai in a force 10 gale requires shelter in the members only Iceberg Club, they appear to belong to the same Barmy bu…g..r swimmer's club in which P is enrolled.

We are possessed to take a look at a strange tower in the distance, afar.

The last time I had such a glamorous picture taken I had made my way up from a not a very deep part of this (head for the bottom). Minutes aftre this shot I was Texas tumbleweed as the wind blew me back down the hill, like a toddler gaining momentum before crashing to the floor except I hit  a bank of grass...vertically. 

To regain our equilibrium and because it is very close to the fish and chip shop of the year, Junior decided to take us here, seems all that sunshine doesn't necessarily stop the extreme glums, every two yards are notices to call Samaritans,  there is a choice of sides. Yes we are at the most popular suicide spot.

I need comfort food....but due to inclement weather the chipshop is shut. So where shall we go instead. Junior has been itching for us to sample his other culinary obsession and  we find ourselves are slap bang in the centre of Sydney in a little resturant owned by a multinational husband and wife team who are doing nothing to help foreign relations between  Indonesia and Malaysia.

I have a rule... I can't eat food that looks ugly and having seen this crustacean in its raw state I'm not sure dropping it in boiling water and giving it the sauce equivalent of a paper bag is going to make any difference.  I pick a rice dish, Junior proceeds not to pick his favourite dish but something entirely different.  We watch domestic harmony play out ...as he complains to his friend that she is miserable as he sits there and she runs round the customers like a blue arsed f..y.  I'll hold him while she hits him with the frying pan. But IT arrives, soft shell crab deep fried in breadcrumbs,  a valiant attempt to mask its visage but it still has 6 legs. Junior pleads and pleads for me to try it even resorting to eyelash fluttering and the "Just for me" I remember him using when trying to persuade me to commit the sacrilegious act of pouring gravy on my fish and chips ...I never wavered then. Submission was close but I happened to glance up just as 3 of its legs were protruding from P's mouth  and it was all I could do not to produce my own version of sticky rice.

Time for bed.

Sunday and the weather is more promising. Junior is still on a mission for a bit of home so we set off for

 

Taking in the glorious coastline…

 

If it wasn’t for the sunshine I would have said they have built a bypass round Bempton

And here we are for the best fish and chips 3,000 miles outside of Scarborough, North Yorkshire, England…with two guys building up a hunger….

 

We walk in to be told there’s a bit of a wait as the back up generators have to be used because a storm knocked all the electric out. Having failed dismally at my previous gourmet adventure, I go exotic -  barramundi and chips (no patty or mushy peas). Meanwhile mad maxes of the jet ski world lose control of their bikes. One is in lucky and the motor is retrieved, the other causes chip butties to pause between newspaper and gob as it gets “washed” into the rocks about 16 times. Mad max 1 spends the next hour trying alternately to save his treasure  and not get squashed by it.

We should probably get some exercise

 

But then a swell gets up. P would like to go in but I am worried that any residual chip fat will mean I slip though my rubber ring.

 

As we head for home via the main street which seems to be the only exit available we find that the blow out at the chippie is only the half of it.

There is a Fire service sign just before the next picture which said “Be storm ready”. This is the fire service’s home

Due to every ice ceram shop also being knocked out we have to make nn ice cream stop on the way back  And quote of the day as I take this pic

 

- Do we look gay in this??