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Bye Bye Brisbane!


I am writing from Brisbane airport. We will board in about an hour. The thing is, I don’t want to go back to London. The thought of having to put my coat back on is filling me with horror. Not to mention the overcrowded Tube, the long to-do list, and so on, and so forth.


Going to Australia was one of my childhood dreams. And now I can’t wait to go back. I love the outdoorsy way of life, the coffee culture and the laid-back attitude. Nobody here made a comment on whether I looked French, or British, or whatever. Nobody really cared, and it was refreshing.
What is wrong with me? We French are supposed to love the French way of life, and here I am, wanting to go all Aussie.
Maybe it is some sort of mid-life crisis. I seriously wonder.
My younger daughter has insisted to take her body board back to London. It is going to be funny to travel with it. In short, it’s back to our former life.
See you there!
Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London

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You must have noticed it. In Sydney, selfie sticks are everywhere. I am starting to wonder whether they are a status symbol amongst tourists. Maybe they recognise each other with the different brands and features (adjustable phone adapter, extends more than three feet, etc) The selfie stick shouts ‘I am a coooool photographer, and I like to take pictures of me, me and me as often as I can’. It shows that you are taking your holidays very seriously indeed. As a result, hordes of tourists are filming themselves in all sorts of situations behind their camera mount. I saw one crossing the street with one. There must have been accidents. Can you imagine the situation? ‘Sorry, I was watching my camera on my selfie stick, not the traffic lights. So sorry’.Ridiculous. I am pretty sure that some are spending their whole day with their selfie stick hovering up in the air. They must suffer from cramps in the arms in the evening. Not nice.



The safety stick is the new solution of an age-long problem: how do you take good pictures of yourself and your friends or family? I get it. I understand the issue -I love selfies too. So yes, it must have its advantages.

That said, I find the whole concept a bit sad. Don’t you?
Selfie: yes, but the French Yummy Mummy way…


Come on, have we forgotten to use words? You know, words, like, to talk to each other.
How about doing it the French way and asking the nice guy (or girl) to take a few pics for us? If you are single, it might lead to a phone number. If you’re not, you might have a good laugh. Just saying. What’s not to like?

And how about just having a good time and trying to make friends, or simply enjoy your visits instead of taking pictures. Just a thought.

Don’t get me wrong, I love taking pictures. But I also love some down time, without any electronic devices.

So here is my message to all selfie-stick-addicted amateur photographers: have a coffee. Talk. Enjoy life. You’ll love it. And put your vanity-promoting stick away, I’d like to enjoy the landscape too!

Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London

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Bondi Beach

While we were in Sydney, we couldn’t resist paying a visit to the world-famous Bondi beach to see if it lived up to its reputation. Well, it wasn’t at all what I expected, and I couldn’t help being a bit disappointed: this place was simply not for families. It was a place to see and be seen. If you wanted to admire sun-kissed bodies, and decide who you would spend the night with, this was the place to be. A few women were tanning topless. Just saying. Even in France we don’t do topless anymore: we stopped in the 80s. A group of French backpackers were discussing their plans for the evening right next to us, and basically, for once, I was glad that my younger daughter’s French was so bad. The fact that she couldn’t understand what a condom was was in fact quite a relief (she is 9). I wonder whether, at night, Bondi beach becomes some sort of gigantic orgy? I will never know.

In short, I felt really older and none the wiser. This was not my scene.


Me In Bondi Beach


Bondi beach was a short taxi or bus ride from Sydney. It was so close to the city centre that it felt like we were still in Sydney. Yes, the city had its own beach! It was of course great, with white sand and great waves. So far, I must admit that Australia’s beaches are simply the best I have ever seen (even better than the Mediterranean ones, but don’t repeat it). I had a nice swim in the Pacific, and it felt great. I was the only one wearing a one-piece swimsuit (have you ever tried to swim with a bikini? it isn’t possible). Girls didn’t come to Bondi to swim, apparently. So much for being pragmatic. Yes, I know, I am French AND pragmatic. A deadly combo. Oh, and you needed to choose the right side of the beach, because one was for surfers. It was of course very crowded, and you also needed to make sure that you didn’t forget where your towel was, because it was easy to get lost, unless of course you wanted to make it look like you were confused to hit on someone by taking his or her towel. Maybe that’s how the whole thing worked. I wondered. I was clearly out of touch.

We went back to your hotel in Sydney at the end of the afternoon. It was nice to see what Bondi beach was about, but it made me realise that I absolutely loved the Gold Coast. Because Broadbeach was my scene, and between you and me I couldn’t wait to go back.

That said, what a great start of 2015!

Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London