“Just about the time a woman thinks her work is done, she becomes a grandmother.” Edward H. Dreschnack

The thing about Toowoomba is that it's pretty. It was designed & built before electricity so no~one worried about overhead wires.  It was planted before someone decided camphor laurels were a noxious weed & lined both sides of many of its streets with trees.  Now they are huge, old, beautiful, hacked to pieces because of the overheads but still producing these glorious green avenues.  It's about the only thing I miss about Toowoomba. 

 I went to uni out here so I know what a cold old hole it can be. The prettiness & tidiness makes me claustrophobic.  There is no wild & I do like me some wild. What there is, in September, is the Flower Festival. Queen's Park is a riot of coloured blooms.

Even the knot garden...

I wasn't there for the flowers though.  Even when I lived there I avoided the festival.  You know, people, crowds...

I was there for something much more interesting...

 It's funny.  Your first you fuss & worry but after 5 you realise that given enough time they will actually go to sleep & they do it fast because you have learnt how to be really boring!

 So I changed nappies, hung out washing, drove the other car & cuddled a baby so his parents could get stuff done & now the other Grandies are having their turn. I reckon I made a super call.  His other Grandmother actually wants to be called *Grannie* ...[shudders delicately]...so  Móraí is all mine.