Its an almost unbearably reasonable 24 degrees, distressing because I am (briefly) facing a computer while beloved is lying next to the pool. The one with real sand and boulders, 2m deep, surrounded by palms with a swim-up bar and grill.
Day of the Jackal is waiting, my man's just ordered himself a short detachable rifle from a Belgian arms smuggler and is now pottering around Paris sussing out ideal locations to wipe out a world leader. Note to ASIO: this paragraph refers to a popular novel, the only terrorising I'm planning is the hotel drink waiters. You can never have too many chilled sav blancs when expending energy wriggling around under an umbrella evading the sun.
I have only eaten Barramundi twice so far; I'm keen to show restraint. Last night's Oysters Kilpatrick with a huge side salad of rockmelon, macadamias, and a big tonne of miscellaneous rabbit food was a useful diversion.
Palm Cove is proving quite a physical adventure. Twice now beloved and I have walked along the beach beyond the resort, once venturing what I estimate to be 500m along the sand. I demonstrated my hunk credentials by flexing my biceps and skimming a couple of stones across the windchop- beloved was flushed with pride!
This afternoon I may go for a little wade, but you can't overdo these things: too much action for a city dweller like me and I might be forced to beat a hasty retreat to the room. Stashed there, in case of medical emergency, is a nice bottle of Houghton's Dry White accompanied by endless movies, news and makeover shows on cable telly.
So far I'm having a terribly stressful time, in case I haven't conveyed that. I miss my work, the joy of rush hour commuting and the bracing and uplifting breezes that waft over Melbourne from Antarctica.
I'm waiting on the results of two job interviews, one in Melba, one in Canby, one running cases in court, one working on treaties and drafting laws, both, at long last, ongoing positions. But, oddly, I've barely thought about them since we arrived.
That's Palm Cove, all go, go, go, no time to think....
Trump’s dictatorship is a fait accompli
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What can Americans do? What should Australia do? A few weeks ago, I drew up
a flowchart to estimate the probability that Trump would establish a
dictatorsh...
3 days ago
7 comments:
May you be reduced to drinking cooking brandy, you sadist. I'm reading this wearing two dressing gowns and my feet are freezing. The sky is blue, the sun is out but it's still freezing.
That's where we went for our honeymoon. Lovely, isn't it? And you've sensibly gone at a time of year when you can swim in the sea without being stung to death by poisonous jellyfish. Well planned.
(I should have replied to your email while you were still in Melbourne, eh!)
Armaniac, can you see me eyes? Green with envy.
Today, concerned about our lack of literary pursuit, we bought a new idea for beloved and 2 fishing magazines and an esquire for me.
Now I am at peace with myself, back to cocktail hour (actually its beer o'clock in the room in time to watch some news and rex hunt. Watching Rex is so funny since his, er, coming out. Everything he says seems laden with meaning...).
"Ongoing" - ah yes, the new definition of "permanent". Can't have people thinking that they have any real security, can we. Anyway, good luck with 'em. Nil illegitimus carborundum. Enjoy - although that entreaty sounds a little superfluous, given your desctriptions.
Holidays.... hmmmm...? What are they again?
News of your frolicking is upsetting for those of us who are heavily involved at our keyboards trying to save the world.
Couldn't you send us word of a bad sunburn or a bad prawn or even a knockback?
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