We've just come back from our d'Arcy Doyle walk through the village. It's a hot and humid morning, and I'm sitting by the computer, slamming down an ice-cold Coke. (Funny how when I slam down a Coke, I'm back in Camp 6 on Bougainville, visualising a pair of legs sticking out from under the bed of a certain person who's groping for a pair of lost contact lenses)
I ought to be outdoors doing some much-needed work around the place. I mean, Australia is an outdoor country. People only go inside to use the toilet - and even that's a very recent development - but the last few weeks have been too wet and today it's too hot, so it's back to reading.
Anyway, now that I'm approaching 80 - unfortunately, from the wrong direction - all that work is becoming a bit too much for me, and as I intimated elsewhere, early next year may be as good a time as any to find someone else to sit on the ride-on mower for a couple of days every few weeks, cut down trees and split firewood, or clean the gutters.
