Hobart Trip that was part two

All week kids had a scheme to go to the Aquatic Centre which has just reopened. We went on Friday, parking up in Glebe, after I got them to imagine me walking up and down sloping streets, en route to tennis training. Eldest was amazed by sloping houses everywhere, enthused about it to Chris, along with kangaroos on streets in Dynnyrne, there is a magic. At the pool I distracted older kids to pretend youngest was still eligible for free entry, inside a kid offered us his locker, another freebie, which compensated for the goggles I had to buy.  I let youngest think he was old enough to go on inflatable slide, he had to be rescued by a lifeguard. I think my favourite part was sitting outside eating nuggets. 

Then we went to Sabrina's house, frugal years over, buying up property, shack at Bicheno, kids at high school have good social skills and friends that appreciate them; we had the weather too. I walked around noticing Sabrina sets up 'functioning' rituals for work and study and expanded outdoor spaces. 

The headland is now dotted with designer homes. Saturday spent at Red Ochre beach, adjacent to Blue Lagoon; Sunday at Parks Beach, coffee at the cafe replacing old/bad cafe; eldest played an 11 yo chess shark, chatted to mother, who admitted to an ego shift from hipster Mum plugged into art scene to taxi Mum. I said the art at Mona wasn't my cup of tea, or as the eldest put it, "if you're going to exhibit a brick, I feel as though you should put more art into the brick". 

Chris place is three doors down from a house I'd visited for a party aeon ago, tucked into sloping rock face of West Hobart. Reversed hire car backwards for 50 metres, after I'd had to coax youngest out of the boot and back into his car seat (I played shops, Chris he admired my control, I said parenting is my special skill).  I was ready to sink into the grass, hug a tree, in the throes of cramps, and all the emotions I would have loved to bypass, but I could survive solo parenting, difficult driving and tricky company. 

I liked Chris as a tennis friend, but preferred guys like Ben or Noah, who I could express all my quirks, confident they held me in high esteem and would confide in me about their problems.  Around male centric types, woman has to get better at combat. Chris is hard to banter with.  I took a photo of his tennis embroidery John McEnroe "you cannot be serious". Told him I'd been at Australian Open when he was disqualified, he asked for a photo of teenage me, thought I'd be cute. Warned him I had braces.