Boys And Their Toys

I enjoyed the perfect Aussie day on Saturday, despite the fact The Husband was working and therefore sadly couldn’t join us. I breakfasted al fresco on our veranda, lunched on fish and chips (or, to be completely accurate, Firby Fish Bites – yes, I chose from the kids menu and got ridiculed for it but I obviously made the right decision as I couldn’t even finish the kiddy portion – it’s no wonder more and more Australians are becoming obese) and beer by the sea, then drove to a vast, empty beach and spent the afternoon catching some rays and playing a fierce game of French cricket. For the boys, however, none of the above came close to beating the real thrill of the day - making a detour to look at a huge dumper truck. I kid you not. Okay, I’ll admit that it was a fairly impressive vehicle. The bright yellow truck towered above us - it was like a gigantic version of a toy truck you’d play with in the sandpit, with wheels that you could climb in and a seat you have to use a ladder to clamber up to. It was quite interesting for about a minute, then I was ready to go. Unfortunately for me though, the boys were enthralled with this monster toy and stood gazing up at it with eyes as round as saucers, like kids first thing on Christmas day. They walked round it a few times, examined all the knobs and bolts and screws in minute detail and took turns posing beside it for the camera. “This is the best thing I’ve done in Karratha!” exclaimed one of them breathlessly, still looking up at the truck in awe. I know there isn’t much to do in Karratha but seriously?! I think the beach tops an old truck. Of course, these were all engineers and they do tend to get geeky about these sorts of things, but I think this weird obsession with gadgets and contraptions is fundamentally a male thing. Take the following day for example – I’m sitting around a table in the sunshine by the pool, glass of wine in hand, gazing up at the palm trees, attempting to chat about travel, but the conversation turns again and again to bikes. No matter how hard I tried to steer away from that boring topic, it keeps coming back to different models of bike, different accessories for the bike, different ways to get a bike delivered to Karratha. I didn’t think it was possible to talk about bikes for more than, say, ten minutes, but apparently it is. For much longer. At least I had a pair of big dark shades on so nobody could tell when I was drifting off or staring at the sky. And thank God for wine.