The next morning was cold and windy. My room had an electric kettle but no cord long enough to reach the power point just above the skirting board. I knelt on the floor to bring some 'holy' water to the boil for my first cup, but went across to GLORIA JEAN'S for the second.
I then wandered along the street taking in the sights of Thirroul (which, I am told, is supposed to mean 'the valley of the cabbage tree palms'). D.H. Lawrence, who wrote his Australian novel Kangaroo while staying in Thirroul in 1922, described the sea around thus, "He liked the sea, the pale green sea of green glass that fell in such cold foam. Ice-fiery, fish-burning. He went out on to the low flat rocks at low tide, skirting the deep pock-holes that were full of brilliantly clear water and delicately-coloured shells, and tiny, crimson anemones. Strangely sea-scooped sharp sea-bitter rock-floor, all wet and sea-savage."
With temperatures in the low teens, I had no difficulty resisting the urge to dive into that 'pale sea of green glass' and instead marvelled at Thirroul's multi-cultural accounting profession.
I was also fascinated by this heavily fortified window display of a second-hand German-made OLYMPIA portable typewriter priced at $50. I had bought the exact-same model forty-five years earlier at Breckwoldts in Kieta on Bougainville Island in New Guinea and for twenty years lugged it through fifteen different countries. If the shop had been open, I would've bought it just for the memories!
Then it was off to the railway station to buy myself another all-you-can-travel $2.50 day ticket on my Senior's Card. After half a dozen Smoky Bacon Flavour crackers - "Made in Hungary"! don't we make ANYTHING anymore in this country? - my train pulled in and I was on my way to Sydney Central.
Click below for the other parts:
Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
