I don't think I've ever been this happy. Maybe it's because I've finally landed back in my heartland. Honest to goodness I'm freaking pinching myself every day.

This morning after checking the surf not two minutes from my home I came home and went for a walk with Jamie, up a short hilly street from our front door and then onto the heath. When I say heath I'm talking thousands of acres of bush for walking and mountain bike riding. From the hill you see the town nestled amongst the trees and the sea in the distance.

This track heads down to the river where a big pirate ship hugs happy children. A bird spotter sits happily in the reeds taking photos of feathered things. It's a different set of birds to home - the wattle birds screech louder with a cark cark at dawn and maggies lope like gangsters in the front garden looking for unearthed bugs from our gardening efforts.

From here there's a few ways to get uo the shops if we chose - across the river where kookaburras espy fingerlings and people kayak upriver. But we choose to walk home through the streets. Unlike some other coastal towns that are more developed, Angelsea is tightly held, a collection of passed down houses from the 50s onwards or renovated builds with views. It's relatively humble. You can't build out because of the NP. Here if you want a new build you have to demolish, and who has that money?

The boomers who have lived here since they were kids are Angelsea through and through, a little more down to earth. They raised kids here and wax lyrical about paradise on earth and the good old days where people lived in two bedroom shacks with five kids in one room.

Whilst there are holiday makers about we can't hear nor see them from our street where we are blessed with permanent residents. With the land tax air bnbs are being sold as it's not worth their while. Some have holiday houses. How lucky they are.

There's orchids on the heath and heather and wildflowers.

Neighbors come past the front garden to say hello. You're the new residents, they say. Welcome. Love what you've done so far. So far all they can see is how much we have cleared the front garden, neatening it up and cutting self seeded scraggly bushes and getting rid of daisies and hebes and other old fashioned plants.

We have done the front blinds so have privacy now - the venetians were half price as were the linen sheers. But it's such a quiet street we don't see people walk past and look much. We have been in a rural area so long on five acres we were scared of the suburbs but this suburb isn't ordinary. It's beautiful and everyone is fucking happy.

You don't even have to rant at tourists because hell, we live here all year round and people pay good money to be here for a week or two.

And there's a parrot landing on the back deck as I speak, hello hello, she says, welcome to the neighbourhood.

If you were wondering, we are keeping the pine floors. We can't afford to do more than sand and poly so we will do that and maybe if it doesn't work we will do something else. But who fucking cares, hello, hello, hello, we live in paradise.

I freak out a little, worry. I could be dead soon. If so I've had so little time to wake up here. So I lay awake at night excited about the day as I don't want to miss it.

My happiness meter hits 148. Jamie's rests between 5 and 15. The needle nearly broke on Wednesday when he got hotdogs at IKEA. I nearly busted my happiness meter rescuing a worm crossing the road when it was raining yesterday.

Hello, hello, hello worm. I hope you are as happy as me.

With Love,

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