Early morning at "Riverbend". Yesterday, a large cruiser anchored on the other side and stayed for the night. In days gone by, I would have donned my NELLIGEN YACHT CLUB cap and rowed out to introduce myself, but these days I prefer to sit on the verandah and enjoy the sun, except it's still cold. What happened to global warming?
As I'm sitting here drinking coffee in my slippers, I'm thinking to myself, I really need to wash some cups - or perhaps continue watching Stephen Fry's "Planet Word" which I started last night. If you're interested, I shall post about it later. I share Stephen Fry's lifelong love for words and language, which he has explored in depth through his television and radio series, of which there are several, as well as several books.
We visited the Nelligen Markets in the Mechanic's [sic] Institute Hall yesterday (apparently, they only had one mechanic at the time the hall was built). The place was already decorated with tinsels and miniature Santas. Not that the locals buy any of that stuff. We leave that to the tourists. We go there for the gossip with people we may not have seen since last month's market day. Anyway, the Santas were popular with the kids and sold well, so please don't make fun of them just because they still believe in Santa. I know adults who still believe politicians.
If the weather stays this cold, we may drive into the Bay and spend an hour or so in the warm-water pool. That 34-degree-warm water really works wonders on the old bones. And we always find some new and interesting people to talk to, not to mention all those other ones with their bodies covered in tattoos whom we only admire from afar. Back in the sixties, if you saw someone with a tattoo, you could be almost sure that you were looking at an ex-jailbird but these days everyone seems to have a tattoo, and some in the most unlikely and weirdest places.
Of course, those tattoos change as their bodies change, and what may have looked good once, looks grotesque in old age. Only the other day I met this really old chap in the pool's dressing room who had the word 'WOOL' tattooed on his shrivelled thingamajig. I didn't believe my eyes and couldn't help myself asking him, "Are you a grazier?" "No", he said, "I got that tattoo when I was a lot younger and lived in Woolloomooloo".
