Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

Here are the girls looking very proud of their selves in the uniform of their new school, Wodonga Primary.

If you click on the snap to enlarge it, you may be able to make out the Welsh and Australian flag pin-badges on their hats. These were given to them as leaving gifts.

They were up like larks this morning, super-excited about their first day.

On the way to school I asked Robyn,

'On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you?'

'Nine and a half' she said, ' and half nervous' she added.

Mrs. Martin, the Principal, was waiting for them in reception and she took us to their respective classrooms. I was touched by Robyn's new teacher - she told the girls she knew exactly how they felt as she had moved to Australia from Scotland aged six. She'd also been in our old neck of the woods quite recently as she visited Llangollen last December.

Anyway, the good news is me and the wife have got the day to ourselves for the first time in ages. We've already been out for breakfast and we plan to spend some quality time together house-hunting.

In other news it's been raining here overnight and was still spitting this morning. Unlike home, people here are glad to see the rain as the country is locked in it's worst drought in living memory.

The wife and I were awoken from our slumber last night by the loudest thunder I have ever heard. It sounded as though it was right above us. It was a different noise than that of thunder back home, it wasn't a sharp, crackling sound, more a dull, deeper and immensely louder din.

Talking of slumber, I've been having some quite vivid dreams over the last couple of nights. Nothing exciting I'm afraid, but the dream experts out there may be able to see some sort of meaning.

The night before last I dreamt that I was enjoying a snooze on some sort of temporary bed above a pub back home in Rhyl - not my local pub, but the George Hotel, where I worked many, many moons ago. I was awakened by the not unpleasant sight of Kirsty, the girl that runs my old local, delivering a masterpiece of a sandwich for my apres-nap consumption. It was the size of a bin lid and had salad garnish surrounding it on all sides. I continued to doze but, from time to time, stirred to stare at the sandwich which lay on a plate rested on my chest. I awoke several times, each time thinking, something along the lines of, 'Oooohhh, I'm looking forward to eating that sandwich'

However, when I'd finally finished my nap, I looked at the plate on my chest and it was empty, apart from a few tell-tale crumbs.

Kirsty appeared.

'What happened to my sandwich?' I asked despondently.

'Oh that,' she said, 'I sold it.'

I was gutted, so gutted that I woke up for real. I was starving too, so I dived straight into the fridge.

So, dream-readers, what do you make of that?