He's had his boat moored across the river from "Riverbend" for the last four days since last Friday, swinging idly to and fro with the tides. No sign of life, no lights at night, not even any noise - it's the kind of neighbour I could tolerate.
It's a quiet Monday: Padma has gone into town, and I've just turned over to a new photo on the mantelpiece to ruminate over times long past:
This week's photo is of IIB's supermarket on Thursday Island. I took it back in 1977 when I lived in one of the most exotic places I've ever been to and worked in one of the least challenging jobs I've ever worked in.
The upstairs window to the right of that big 'B' in IIB was my office from where I gazed across the azure waters towards Horn Island whenever what little work needed to be done had been done. A perfect tropical sinecure but not for a young man in his "Sturm und Drang" years with many places yet to go. Staying would have been fatal to my ambitions.
And just then, in the midst of all my pleasant reveries, a sudden noise echoed across the river! A quick look through the tele-lens of my camera confirmed what I thought it was: my neighbour up the lane and his brother were cutting my neighbour's grass across the river. That's what's left of the Australian economy: all we do is take in each other's washing.
All that noise woke up the occupant of the boat who seemed ready to move to a quieter part of the river. Thanks, Dale, for chasing away the only neighbour I could tolerate. When are you going to cut my grass?
