Peace and Quiet, but not in Bali

At the moment all is peaceful in the household. However, the place looks like a bomb has hit it. There are suitcases, shoes, roller skates and a netball lying in the hall as I write. Perhaps I should be cleaning everything up. But perhaps I wont.
The midget is back from her holiday in Sydney, much to our relief. I miss her so when she is away. She was happy and sweet this afternoon. She went to the beach with her young suitor Patrick and his mum and they had a lovely time. She then arrived home and hounded C, and he played lovely games with her for hours until his patience wore thin and he retired to bed, where he is still.
So I sit here alone. It is not often I am alone here. Everything is very quiet.
I had a quick visit to the doctor this afternoon and came home loaded with antibiotics and ventolin, and an urgent need to kick this bronchitis in the bum. The Doctor mentioned that the city I live in is Australia's allergen and asthma capital. Yippee. There is a large oil refinery across the bay that pours out plumes of crap into the air. No wonder my lungs aren't coping. It also doesn't help that this house is cold, drafty and in urgent need of renovating. C is saving his pennies for that. I probably inhale a load of plaster dust in my sleep every night. My doctor quipped "move to Queensland". If only it were that simple.
There have been bombings in Bali again. Surely this is the death knoll for Australian tourism there. This is a tragedy for the Balinese, who are the loveliest gentlest people and largely rely on the tourist dollar. Bali is largely Hindu, but because of the large amount of Western tourists visiting, radical islamic groups seem to target Bali. So far the reports are saying that two Australians have been killed, with up to 100 injured.
I went to Bali on a school excursion in 1978 (grade 6). We had such a brilliant time, the people were wonderful to us. It was such an adventure. And this was way before Bali became the tourist mecca that it is today.