The flying foxes have arrived in the mangroves opposite. I have no idea where they go or why they come back, but they do and their numbers slowly build until none of them can get any sleep at all during the day for all the chattering.
It seems that the Government is serious about using the original route for the motorway too, they've called for "submissions" which of course is a euphemism for objections. I'm wondering if I should let the flying foxes know.
Meanwhile this painting caper is teaching me that I have more patience than I thought. I haven't figured out why I actually like standing there all day painting half the surface area of a large canvas with a tiny brush in such a way that it looks like it was done in ten minutes with a very large one, but I do.
I'm glad I was never in the navy, I suspect I might have enjoyed scrubbing decks with a toothbrush too.