We're into autumn and into grey skies. Before things turn too dark and cabin fever sets in, I will make a quick escape up north. No, not the tropical north, just a four-day dash up to the Hawkesbury River.
As soon as I have found two matching thongs, Padma will drive me down to Batemans Bay to catch the PREMIER bus to the railhead at Bomaderry from where I'll take the train to Central Station In Sydney. After a change of trains, I'll be off to Brooklyn for three restless nights at the Anglers Rest Hotel* and a cruise with the Riverboat Postman.
Perhaps I can persuade the King of Milson's Passage to relocate to the Clyde River where he would fit in very nicely with the local populace.
In the meantime, a walk around the block while chewing on a piece of round red or green tree fruit that is commonly used in pies served with ice-cream if ingested once every twenty-four hours will ensure that the medical practitioner remains at a distance:
* Not knowing whether I shall be one of many or the only angler in residence, I have dispensed with the apostrophe in Anglers Rest.
