Like a Bat out of Hell I’ll be gone when the morning comes.

Meatloaf is playing and the rain is coming down as we drive through the night. It has been a good day, as days go.

I am enjoying spending time with my friends and loved ones. I am enjoying having some fun. I expect it is a good thing that my present partner in mischief is married to another lovely friend or else our hi jinks may know no bounds. As it is I have to return him in good condition after borrowing him.

Driving back I have organized another date with some other good friends, so I have that to look forward to, and more tentative arrangements to confirm. Gotta love the technology!

All things considered it’s been a good day. Good friends, good music, good fun.

Travel safe x


Hold me fast, ’cause I’m a hopeless Wanderer.

When I alighted from the train this afternoon I was listening to Mumford and Sons. I was enjoying it so much and was so into the music that I missed the turn off to my destination and had walked about three kilometres out of my way before I realized the scenery was less familiar. On my walks I tend to walk and walk and walk until I can’t walk anymore and only then turn around to walk home. My theory is that once I’m out there I don’t have a choice, I have to walk back. It’s a good theory but I’ve pushed it a bit in reality today. Once I realized my error I followed the train line through a national park back to my missed turn and began the trek home.



I had already walked all over town. Up and down stairs, in and out of arcades. I have no idea of the distances but I covered some ground. There were lots of Easter eggs displayed and other pretty, shiny things.




My find of the day was the Trinity Lunch Room. A church that now held art classes and the lunch room, where you can get a cup of tea for $1.50 but it’s b.y.o. lunch! Still, a dollar fifty for a hot drink is a bargain!





On my walk back to the train station to make my return journey I came across a busker. He was young; early to mid twenties, nice physique, tribal tatts on tanned arms, long dreadies. He was singing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, and he was singing it well, so I stopped to listen. His next and final song was ‘Fall at your feet’ by Crowded House, and again it was a lovely rendition. He closed with a modest ‘My name is Pete (Of course it is). Thank you for listening.’

On the contrary Pete, thank YOU! Nothing like a man who can sing!

It dark and late now. I’ve had my bedtime banter and the night is crisp and clear. My legs are sore. Time to rest.

Travel safe x