Mona - and I still wonder why

I had been told by many people that "we had to go to Mona - the famous Museum of Old and New Art", and Rob was going with or without us, so the scene was set.
We got there reasonably early and despite the lack of signage, we found our way to the top level, which was actually normal ground level. Turns out this place is almost entirely underground, and after seeing some of the stuff in there, i can suggest that this is to make it easier to fill in with dirt and concrete at a later date.
I always knew I wasn't the Arty Farty type, and after visiting MONA, I am now certain that I am not.
We were advised that there were certain sections with adult content, and so I was fairly wary about keeping the kids close so I could screen their viewing as we moved along the dark corridors.
I was so vigilant in my screening, that I didn't actually notice the 76 "Maps of Tasmania" pinned to the wall at a height just above the boys eye level and just below mine. It was only as Dylan asked me what they were that I actually looked at them and realised the varying depictions of a woman's most private anatomy was staring at all of us to admire if we so chose to. I chose not to and threw a modest description to Dylan's question as "Art". What I wasn't impressed at though, was the written description of this piece.... it was literally named as ..... No, I am not even going to reference it. Despite my many bogan traits, I still hate the C word, whether it be written, spoken or heard and i felt there could have been a hundred better ways to describe this row of genitalia pinned to the wall for everyone to admire and discuss all the differences. Apparently that must be a natural thing for Arty people to do.
Moving on..... I learnt that you can get a plastic bag and fill it with soil and put a plant in it, then hang it from a railing and call it art. Or you can loop some rope and hang it from an over sized hook. Or put a bag of coal in the middle of the floor which is just inviting all the kids to touch, only to be told off by security to not touch. Like I said, I don't think I am arty.

We finally made a bolt for the exit door before Tracy had a seizure over the darkness of the Art world and found a playground for the kids. Then we took off to find Seven Mile Beach, which we had seen from our climb up Mt Wellington the other day. It was horribly windy, however there was no way the kids were going to let us near a beach without letting them get in it.... so we did. Being the super responsible parent I am, i changed into my bathers and stood in knee deep water yelling at the 6 kids every 5 seconds to remind them that they were too far out, or too far down the beach. I finally decided it was too hard so I figured I was in Tasmania and they are used to seeing seals and whales in shallow waters, so i took my shirt off and jumped in with the kids. The water is actually amazingly warm and was only let down by the cool wind, but the 20-30 minutes spent in the water was really fun.... Until Tyler's body surfing involved a right hand punch fair square on my nose and sent me reeling backwards, floating in shore like a dead walrus about to get beached and photographed by hundreds of bemused tourists. That was it for me... and everyone else, so we dried off and headed back to camp....
Yep, beer o'clock.