Get Smart

It is a tiny fishing / holiday town with not a lot going for it except for its National Park, beach and river. As we check into the caravan park we realise that the manager must be working for ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation), she asks so many questions about us that I’m sure that she was even noting our eye colour. We plug our 6 digit code into the rusty boom gate and hey at last we’re in. The sites are shaded by pine trees which means there is no grass just a mess of pine needles, fine gravel … Continue reading Get Smart

Tight?

In this caravan park we are very close. Last night our TV addict neighbours on the left had their TV blaring. The folks on the right had their TV outside obviously as a courtesy to us because as we prepared dinner we were able to watch Home and Away through our kitchen window. It was a perfect night to eat outdoors but with a different channel in each ear it became unbearable. We resorted to the Dolby method and turned ours on as well. This morning we woke at 6:00am to the sound of laughter, our neighbours watching TV again! … Continue reading Tight?

Multicoloured Innisfail

Innisfail has a multicultural heritage, Aboriginal, English, Italian, Pacific Islanders, Chinese, Indian to name a few. The heritage is reflected in the architecture. The town hall and shire offices are art deco. The Catholic Church looks as though it has been uprooted from the South Pacific and the brightly painted water tower, that dominates the town, looks Indian. Parking in the palm lined streets is nose first but there is a surprise. There is another row of cars parked down the centre of the street, each facing the direction that they intend to go. This has us baffled and neither … Continue reading Multicoloured Innisfail

Should’ve Gone to Specsavers

We’re soaking in the artesian bore at Lightning Ridge when I notice a man waving. Is he waving at me or my friend Vee? Neither of us can see all that well, especially when the glasses are in the beach bag but we can see that he has a flowing bushman’s beard at least a foot long. He swims slowly across the pool then stops next to the bloke beside us. We both breathe a sigh of relief. “G’day” he says “when ya want to know the news (around here) ya come to the bores.” Continue reading Should’ve Gone to Specsavers