The alarming calm of no kids

IT'S quiet. Too quiet. I am with my wife. We are drinking a local ale, sitting in leather chairs beside a tall gas heater on a wooden deck overlooking a deserted swimming pool and, beyond that, northern NSW rainforest.

The only sound is the murmur of conversation from fellow guests along the deck; the wind and drizzle in the trees; the occasional clink of glasses. It's so ridiculously peaceful that it's like the "safe place" you go to when you've been hypnotised.

I'm probably a 40-a-day smoker with post-traumatic stress disorder in real life. I try not to make any sudden moves. I don't want to wake up before the session's over.

What is most unnerving about this tranquillity is not what is here but what is not: no one is asking for chips, on the brink of falling in the pool, or fighting over the coasters. No one is spilling a drink, bleeding on the furniture or shouting new swear words they've learnt at day-care.

We are away without the kids, together, for the first time in eight years.

I turn to look at my wife, whose cares have fallen away and who is gazing serenely into the distance. Her eyebrows are slightly raised, indicating she is feeling pleasantly, gently surprised by this turn of events; this freedom to surrender to relaxation. Either that or she's got wind. The beer's a bit hoppy.

Most likely she's trying to think of something to say.

Adjusting to life without children (or, more accurately, 24 hours without children) has its challenges. We have banned any conversation involving the little people on this "super-date", which at first proves about as easy as keeping elephants out of your head when someone has challenged you not to think about them. It leaves us a little tongue-tied, like nervous teenagers, except with more nasal hair (in my case, at least; the wife uses trimmers).

But we settle into our new-found freedom. During a walk in the resort's rainforest, we gradually stop ourselves constantly looking up, down and around to see who has shoved the last of a rare species of orchid up their nose or picked up a snake by the tail.