Whilst in Exmouth we swam with an eight metre female whale shark. We had a quick briefing beforehand, with rule number one being: Nobody is to attempt to ride a whale shark. Not that disappointing for me; I was far more concerned with attempting not to get eaten.
Conor and I spent the last week on holiday in Exmouth (pronounced ex-mouth), which is around about here.
Highlights included swimming with an eight metre whale shark; not being eaten by an eight metre whale shark; cracking sunsets; a giant prawn; beach suppers; star gazing; and not hitting any kangaroos in the car. Lowlights included a cracking jellyfish sting, but the less said about that the better.
On Friday night we saw a Trust, a modern dance interpretation of the Global Financial Crisis, in German. And yes, it was every bit as dreadful as it sounds.
Luckily the weekend improved dramatically after that. Firstly, it turns out that the chances of getting eaten alive by sharks is dramatically lower if you don't even get in the tank, which is funny. On Saturday evening we had a BBQ by the beach with some pals, and Smitten Kitchen's cauliflower tart.
Today I made a black & white cake, and thrashed Conor at Scrabble (for the second time ever in my life).
The triathlon that I signed up to in a moment of madness is only two weeks away, so I'm running and cycling round lakes like there's no tomorrow (sort of). I turned a year older, an amazing friend gave me a bottle of wine with my name on it. Last night we saw a great concert, and watched some pretty exciting dancing. And I made some individual caramel macadamia cheesecakes.
It's a bit of a culture shock going from 30º to -2º. Central heating helps, as does mulled wine. On Saturday I went to Ottolenghi, where I've wanted to go for years. It exceeded all expectation, and as if having lunch there wasn't enough I brought home a box of cakes for tea.