While Not Working

  The red-tailed black cockatoos put on quite a show for my last evening at Trilby. Central Coast left the bunkhouse and a Merry Band of Eight moved in. They were on a mystery tour planned by Number 1 and his wife. They paid for the gourmet 3-course meal with preliminary cheese platter around the camp-fire and I was consumed by jealously even as I ate my more than adequate leftovers. I made sure to get up before them in the morning and have my porridge before Liz arrived to make their cooked breakfast. I'd already cleaned my teeth and was filling my waterbottles when she caught sight of me. "I sent you an email at 06:00 to let you know that there's too much bacon so feel free to jump in and help yourself to breakfast." I rapidly channelled my inner Hobbit and wrapped myself around a second breakfast. The band of Eight waved goodbye and I wasn't far behind them.  One of the grey nomads wanted photos, cementing my celebrity status. Apparently word was out about the ...

The Koerstz wool press was revolutionary in its time, allowing the production of quick and consistent bales.  This one sat just outside my window as I worked. My bicycle waited patiently, keeping the antique Koerstz press company. Back when I restocked in Wilcannia, suffering from sticker shock at the prices, I prioritised buying food items that were on sale and only as much as I needed and not a skerrick more. I ended up with a pannier full of a week's worth of sardines and oatmeal, and I don't even like sardines but that's the sacrifice I was willing to make for the sake of lowering my grocery bill. Then I ate more snacks/day than allocated and now I'm on rations until I get to Bourke in 5 day's time. Which was all a way of saying that when I found out that Liz provided a home cooked meal option on Monday night I jumped at the chance and decided not to look at the price because I was willing to pay anything for something that wasn't sardines. I had a whole da...

  I had low expectations of the day when I was awoken before sunrise by the fellow in the neighbouring room talking loudly in his sleep.  Not any interesting secrets either, just loud talking-noises interspersed with his room-mate exhorting him to "Shut up!" but with extra swear words. Tilpa Hotel just before sunrise. My theory was that everyone who wanted to go anywhere in a hurry crossed the river at Tilpa and used the sealed road on the east side, leaving the west side to a smattering of locals and all the tourists on the Darling River Run.  The low traffic was just enough to pack down the black soil nicely after last week's rain, and it ran like silk under my tyres. The caravanners were all still tucked up in their boxes and I had the morning  to myself.  I watched the sun rise as little mobs of kangaroos set about their daily business and sheep woke up for the day. Sunrise. Long morning shadows. Emus wandered desultorily across the road, stopped for a littl...