Image my surprise to hear Neil Diamond sing "Cracklin' Rosie" as we walked into the Mollymook Ulladulla Bowling Club for lunch today. And they continued with "Hot August Night" despite a chilly wind blowing outside. Memories of Bougainville came rushing back.
After a long lunch of fish'n'chips washed down with a couple of Chardies and something undescribably Chinese for Padma, we pulled in at Vinnies to inspect their large still-sorted-by-colour stock of second-hand books.
Its grey dustcover saved Guy Kennaway's "Time to Go" from being hidden in the funereal-black section on the opposite shelf, and so I grabbed it while I'm still alive, together with a charming memoir of Graham Greene, "Greene on Capri", to help me cheer myself up afterwards.
"What, only two?" I hear you ask. Of course not, but I won't bother you with all the others (although I may mention them in future blogs).
I'm home again by the blazing fire, with a cup of serenitea in one hand and "Time to Go" in the other. It could be worse; I could be gone!
