Day 55 Sunday 2/7/2023 Gin Gin, some cloud breezy 9 – 23

I had company in the shower this morning. A tiny moth-like insect so small that it has squeezed through the insect screen of the roof hatch. Woody is up early as always, and the arena is packed with soldiers readying to leave. The horse hotel is empty again. We do more washing in preparation for the impending inclement weather.

A walk up nearby May Street reveals another butcher shop (thank God it’s Sunday) as this one advertises “Specialising in private kills” in the city he’d be confused for a hitman. The street has an avenue of those Brazilian Leopard trees that we admired in Childers and each tree is a memorial to a soldier of World War Two.

It’s pleasant sitting behind the vans out of the wind but it is a shame that I’m beside the sullage bucket so rather than move the sullage I grab a stool and sit behind the stables sketching in the sun. It’s sheltered and peaceful listening to the birds… and surrounded by bird and horse poo. The weather starts to turn, as predicted.

On the TV they are tracking the cyclonic downpour, “Unfortunately the Mt Isa rain gauge is broken.” No doubt there’ll be plenty of gardeners consulting the old plastic gauge on the back fence.

Dinner is Atlantic salmon and steamed vegetables.

Accom: $25.00