Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Good heavens is that the time?
Dicky Beach to Brisbane

When one closes the door to the house for a period of extended travel, there’s a strange sense of closing the door on all of the ills and spills and the accompanying madness up to that point in time.  

Suddenly the whirlwind that sometimes seems to be of tornado like proportions simply stops.  

Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag?  Blow that for a game of soldiers, why not leave ‘em at home and get on with life!

So it was at four thirty this morning, we found ourselves sitting in complete silence, the doors firmly locked behind us, memories of the race to get the place tidied, tools away, make space in the garage for the car, and the ills and spills of recent months already starting to fade.  The sweat from that effort washed off, but already starting to reform as the solid wall of humidity and mid twenty degree temperature made its presence felt, clad as we were in clothing more suited to our destination.

We were not leaving everything in the state we would have preferred, but the two bags at our feet contained all that we would need for the next three months and providing the the bus had not forgotten to pick us up and of course that we remembered to race in and turn the lights off when it did, we just had this feeling that everything would in a very short space of time, be simply tickety-boo. 


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