These days I don't leave "Riverbend" often. I agree with Homer - no, not Homer of the Iliad, nor Homer of "Never on Sunday", but Homer of the Simpsons - who said, "What's the point of going out? We're just going to wind up back here anyway."
However, the ban on travel during COVID had already delayed twice my six-monthly appointment with the cancer surgeon who had removed my throat cancer, both inside and out, all those years ago in 2018. It was now or never, and so we left "Riverbend" on Monday afternoon, stopped for a short break with our Chinese friends at Bomaderry who always make us feel "WELCOME" at their restaurant, before driving for another hour to Wollongong where we parked the little FORD Focus with friends.
Then we caught the train to Sydney Central. I love train travel. In planes the traveller is condemned to hours in a tight seat; ships require high spirits and sociability; cars and buses are unspeakable, but nothing is expected of the train passenger. We entered the carriage reserved for husbands travelling with their wives - see signage - and right away I was off to ancient Samarkand with Colin Thubron's "The Lost Heart of Asia".
The LIFEHOUSE shuttle bus was already waiting for us at Sydney Central, and we were in and out in no time, with the surgeon booking me in for one more consultation in twelve months' time, preceeded by one more a PET scan which, if all clear, would mean I could return to a normal life.
Let off the leash, we revisited some of the shops we had got to know so well during my six-week radiation treatment in 2018, and also popped in at an old favourite, VINNIES on King Street. There seems to be an unwritten law that op-shops should sell second-hand books at two dollars a piece. The only exception to this rule so far has been our nearby VINNIES shop in Moruya where the old geezer doing the pricing first looks up the same book on ebay, and then charges accordingly, postage and packaging included. VINNIES on King Street also started some individual - and erratic - pricing, but you already know me: "When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes", and so I piled up books on an empty chair as I proceeded along the shelves in search for more. Half an hour later, I looked back and noticed that a little Asian lady who worked as a volunteer at VINNIES had put them all back on the shelves, and not just in one easy-to-retrieve spot but all over. I paid for the few I was able to retrieve and left the shop, with her "I so soli, I so soli" still ringing in my ears.
At Central, we searched for the train to Brooklyn on the Hawkesbury River where we were going to spend one, perhaps two nights. I finally walked over to a railway attendant of Indian appearance who, waggling his head from side to side like a man trying to shake water out of his ears, pointed us in the right direction. Hawkesbury River, here we come!
Our cosy room at the Anglers Rest, large and with a high ceiling and a reverse-cycle air conditioner which I turned up to thirty degrees, was to our immediate liking, and so we also paid for the second night. The LADIES and GENTS were down the hallway, with the LADIES directly opposite our room. With no other "ladies" in evidence, I used the LADIES in the hope that no-one would challenge me. If they did, I would tell them I was "transitioning" which seems to be all the rage these days.
That was it for Day One! Stay tuned for Day Two and Three!
