12.20pm. There was no welcoming party in sight so I made a telephone call to Allison. Unfortunately, I found that I had intruded on a day of particularly busy and unexpected events, namely the arrival of a brand new granddaughter (Rebecca) at 7 o'clock that morning. John and Allison had been babysitting ever since then with the other 6 (!) children in the family, all under 10. Nevertheless they had just got home, and insisted on coming to meet me, so it was good to see them only ten minutes later.
Their interrupted morning then meant a long supermarket stop on the way home, a visit to their pharmacy in a shopping centre where I was introduced to all the staff, and finally we did arrive at 37A Lushington Street and it is this that can really be called the final end of my journey. A domestic scene in strong contrast to the continuous movement forever onwards for the past four weeks.
We had lunch at 2:30, a long wait after a minimal breakfast.
This new home of mine is worth a remark or two:
The house is of a curious obtuse-angled shape designed to fit the projecting corner of the steep hill-side, surrounded on the open side by an ample balcony well above the roof of the next house down below. Even though the neighbours are very close one feels way above them and the magnificent view is completely uninterrupted. Below the main floor is a sort of basement through the garage, (which is the usual approach), and includes my room which does look directly onto a neighbour's wall a few yards away. Upstairs from the main floor is a sort of tower containing a single very large room which could make a combined sitting room and bedroom, but appeared to be unused.
Then there is the view, an almost aerial view over the leafy suburb to the wide expanse of Brisbane Water, an inland arm of the sea surrounded by wooded hills and usually as calm as a lake. Definitely cannot be described as the Pacific Ocean; pacific only with a small 'p' (and also nowhere near Brisbane).
Lushington Street itself has a pleasant character with no kerbs or fences, and the grass in front of the gardens merging into the tarmac.
That afternoon we had a walk up the hill behind the house into 'the bush', that is to say, a hill covered with natural vegetation and intersected by numerous footpaths. All sorts of unusual things to see, with very full botanical and geographical explanations from John and Allison: red gums, black gums, ironbarks, blackboys, banksias, ferns in damp pockets, flannel flowers (a daisy with soft velvety petals), casuarina trees, etc, etc. A surprising place so close to this populous suburb.
In the evening, John was out and Allison and I had mushrooms on toast for supper, and an early bed for me at 8:30. Mushrooms, of course, were bought, while at home (I heard later) Marion was picking pounds and pounds of mushrooms in the most productive season ever.
In the morning the balcony was alive with the chattering of birds; rainbow lorikeets, peewees, magpies, crested pigeons and kookaburras alight on the rail at breakfast time, and contend for the bowls of food provided by Allison. The first of many such memorable Australian mornings. It is the lorikeets which are the most numerous and most attractive; bright yellow and green bodies, brilliant orange breasts, blue heads. Imagine sometimes 30 or 40 of these all greeting you in the early morning, and then perhaps perching on your shoulders or your hand.
That first morning we all went to church, the local Anglican, circular, very modern church, where the service included a baptism and communion, and the general theme was 'Thankfulness'. That seemed peculiarly appropriate to me.

Life In Australia

Monday, October 16th, 1995
My second morning at Gosford. It is 6 o'clock in the morning, and I am sitting on the balcony with a cup of tea, in full sunshine and writing my diary. I'm surrounded by all the birds investigating the food bowls.
John and Allison are both up and active, but apparently no thought of breakfast until 8. At the end of October the clocks go forward, so the sun will rise at 6 instead of 5 and set at 8 instead of 7, which seems a better adjusted arrangement.
Comparing views from here and home, we should have a lake or some water at home; the frequent subtle changes in colour of the sea here make an ever-changing scene, but at this time of day particularly there is a constant hum of distant traffic, and in the evening the loudest cicada chorus I have heard anywhere. Lushington Street itself is almost traffic-free. Another point about the watery view is the interest of the water traffic, various small boats cross the view; yesterday a sea-plane landed, and a parasailor was visible, flying (or sailing) by.
A lorikeet comes to my writing table; a lorikeet comes to my shoulder, and walks round to the other one; I put out my hand and it hops onto my hand.
Breakfast was as yesterday: muesli, raisin bread toast, and tea not made until after the end of the meal.
I went into Gosford with John at 8:30, and to the camera shop. Only a minor fault was found which was corrected in a few minutes. John had work to do at the pharmacy so I bought and wrote a postcard or two: one to Koala Sajir - a picture of... guess what? and a birthday one to Philip.
Back at home were very blond Peter aged 3 and equally blond Miriam aged 1 and a half, being looked after by Granny; soon their father David arrived and we all had lunch on the balcony.
In the afternoon a drive to the Pacific Coast south and east of Gosford. First to Captain Cook's lookout on a point called First Point with a long view down the wooded hilly coast-line with sandy bays, all the way to just visible tower blocks of Sydney. Then to Putty Beach, a curving sandy beach with fantastically eroded sandstone rocks at one end. As we sat on the rocks and watched magnificent spray from the incoming rollers, I felt that at last I had reached the real Pacific Ocean and the far east of my travels. It was lovely and sunny but a really quite cold wind, not a day to think of swimming. We then visited various places on Brisbane Water, the 'inland' bay of the sea which leads up to Gosford, but all these places a poor show compared to the ocean at Putty Beach. We got home too late to cook the roast lamb that was planned, so we went down to a chip shop only to find it closed, so up to a town centre pizza shop and home again for a pizza supper in front of the TV news. TV without advertising, I was pleased to see. I was in bed again at 9:15.
One afternoon visit was to St. Hubert's Island. Ten years ago only a mangrove swamp, now a densely populated housing development with every house having access to the waterside. Quantities of sand had been imported to raise the whole island above swamp level. A neighbouring island is still entirely mangrove covered; an interesting contrast.

Next morning Debbie came over with Jennifer (aged 1), and then took Allison and me to Ann's and Paul's house at Wamberral where they have a plant nursery and heated swimming pool. So I joined Paul for my first Australian swim. Sun very hot now. Had lunch indoors with Ellyn (aged 4), and afterwards Sofia (1) appeared. All these children with the same very blond hair. We had a short visit to Wamberral beach in the afternoon and walk on the sandhills. Good waves with some surfers, but the water definitely cold. Allison, with her wrist in plaster (after falling over a water meter in the garden) had had to give up driving, so other members of the family willingly cooperated.
That evening we did have our roast lamb for supper (lamb from the farm). At 7:45, after having been billed for 6:30, but it was worth waiting for.

Wednesday, October 18th
I had a day out in Sydney. 9:15 train from Gosford, the first which was available for pensioners' concession tickets which were A$2 return (1 pound, or 1p per mile). I changed at Hornsby for the North Shore line so as to approach Sydney over the harbour bridge and also to arrive at a station (Wynyard) rather closer to the quayside and within easy walking distance. This North Shore train had windows that opened! being rather older coaches than on the direct Gosford line.
I bought an all day ferry ticket for A$12 and ferried first to Manly, a half hour voyage down the harbour, passing the South and North Heads, and into Manly Bay. Then a short walk up the main street of mostly tourist shops and eating places to the ocean coast where I sat on the beach for some time in the hot sun and had lunch. The water was definitely cool, and I didn't have a towel anyway, so no swim.
Then the ferry back to Circular Quay and another one up river to Bridge Street Wharf at the South Ryde bridge and back again. Finally the Parramatta 'Rivercat' ferry (a fast catamaran) up as far as Meadowbank, from where I could catch a train home at 5:40, changing at Epping. An interesting harbour view day and everything looking just as it does in all the familiar photographs.

Thursday, October 19th
A rather hot day, and I continued my travels - in the end. Over 300 miles inland to the farm at Bouwick on the western plain of New S. Wales.
An announcement of a 9:30 start became 11:45 before we set off in a car full of luggage and Sherpa in a cat-basket. Sherpa, the ubiquitous, much-loved, beautifully pale Siamese coloured Tibetan cat.
We went through Cessnock, Broke, Denman, Merriwa, Dunedoo, Mendooran and then on to mostly unmetalled roads, but with good smooth surfaces to Tooraweenah, the last village. We had a stop near Cessnock in a sort of leisure park for a sandwich lunch, but the sandwich turned out to be a massive 'gourmet sausage' which took a quarter of an hour to prepare. Then a stop for thermos tea at Merriwa, and again at Mendooran beside the nearly dry Castlereagh River.
From Tooraweenah in the gathering dusk with a lovely orange sunset sky, ever more minor dusty roads led eventually to a gateway labelled 'Bouwick', and in another one and a half miles we had arrived. 7:30 pm.
The house is a large low square white bungalow surrounded by small trees. When John went in and switched on a flood of light there seemed an immediate sign of welcome. I had thought we might be lighting paraffin lamps or relying on torch light; but no, all mod cons were there; except, at first, water. No water from the pump, so buckets from the tank were organised. However within half an hour John had got the pump switch to function and all was then well.
We had a cold chicken salad supper on one of the wide verandahs that surround the house, protected by insect screens to keep out the marauders attacking from outside. There were frogs croaking from the dam, but no traffic within many miles.

Friday, October 20th
The morning started with a 5:30 sunrise over the Warrambungle Mountain range 10 miles away to the east. At 6:30 I was having a mulberry feast from two trees growing by the front gate; very different mulberries from those of my youth: long and thin rather than round, and not so strong a taste. Even when not perfectly black they can be eaten without the distinctive sharp taste of British ones. Then a lone cup of coffee, as John and Allison were up an hour later than usual. Perhaps country relaxation or no balcony bird breakfast to cater for. There were many birds around though, particularly happyjacks chattering away in the mulberry trees. Russell came in before breakfast and sat with us while we ate. He and Linda are the only permanent inhabitants of the farm and have a house a mile away nearer the gate, and two children who have to go 30 miles every day to school by bus.
In the morning we had a farm tour by Landrover to inspect the level of water in the dams and see the cattle and sheep. One of the two herds of cattle were 'Santa Gertrudis'. They were developed in America from Angus, Brahmin and Shorthorns; a deep Devon Red colour, some with straight horns and some de-horned. All the cattle looked well, despite the fact that I could see little green grass around.
Many weeds which they object to, particularly because they are all imported, except for the galvanised burr which is one of the worst. Large patches of 'Paterson's Curse', a bright blue flower which is definitely unpopular, but makes a good splash of colour, as I remembered noticing from the train in Western Australia. Many Cypress Pine trees. The house and the large shearing shed were built from these. The kurrajong trees are useful; in the drought branches can be cut off and the leaves used as feed, and they soon sprout again and grow up ready for the next drought, you hope. We saw a few kangaroos around. The temperature was 31 C; rather too hot. The water in the many dams was at a satisfactory level, due to rain they had had in September after the driest winter on record (when we were having the driest summer at home).
In the evening we had another Landrover tour when the temperature was cooling down slightly. More kangaroos around in the evening, and mostly they were keeping themselves well-fed in the great acreage of barley; and there were also acres of wheat.

Saturday, October 21st
We had a day out in the Warrambungle National Park, although the early start idea failed again and we did not in fact leave Bouwick until 11:45. 15 miles or so east to the foot of the mountains, and then through the park up to Siding Spring observatory (the largest telescope in the Southern hemisphere until a new one in South America recently). We were allowed in to walk around the base of the telescope with good information being provided.
Then we had a stop at a look-out point to have all the main peaks pointed out to me. After a picnic lunch, John and I walked up the Split Rock, one of the obviously interesting features. A nearly vertical sided volcanic peak with 2 summits separated by the 'split'. A one hour walk up 1,200 feet to the top at 2,400 feet, with fixed steps and a chain to help in one place. We spent half an hour on the top and saw emus down in the valley below, and rather surprisingly were joined by 5 children under 8 with one father in charge. It was very hot.
There were many kangaroos in the camping place down near the road. I took several photos, some quite close up. On the way home, despite having had a late start, we found time to visit Macanbar, the farm where John's partner, Philip Henley lives, about 12 miles from Bouwick. He introduced us to his emus, a new venture in farming; they live in long runs, as they are keen on running long distances and playing around with each other and turning somersaults. They are farmed for their hide particularly, also feathers, down and meat. This was a long conversation stop with tea in the farmhouse afterwards, somewhat haphazard and untidy with two young children. Philip has a very broad Australian voice, sometimes rather difficult to understand.

Sunday, October 22nd
We went to Barradine church, in a small town about 30 miles to the north. Quite a large gathering, followed by tea in the hall afterwards as a few heavy drops of rain began to fall. We arrived in quite good time, in fact before the end of the first hymn! Then we went out to the Pilliga Forest, where we managed to find six genuine wild koalas sitting in trees. Two of them were actually sitting in pine trees not gum trees, which John and Allison had never seen before. They pointed out that most Australians have never seen koalas in the wild. They still call them koala bears, having been taught to do so all their lives; it was only fairly recently that the fact that they are not bears has been emphasised and brought to people's notice. We had a lunch picnic at Rocky Creek, a beautiful dry river bed with very fine sand. Then we visited the Salt Caves, sandstone rock-shelter type caves (but no apparent reason for the name).
Back to the farm at 4:30 and soon afterwards went out in the Landrover again. But this time the engine could not be started after the first stop. It was quite near Russell's house so we borrowed his truck to go back to the farm to collect jump leads. Finally, we did get back after dark, at about 7. All the stars of course, were brilliantly clear here, with the Southern Cross visible low in the sky.

Then I had a day with Russell on sheep work, rounding up 1,100 ewes through various paddocks into pens and then through a race to draft out 44 lambs. This was done with the Landrover and two very efficient hard-working dogs: Judy and Ringo. After lunch, we loaded the lambs onto a truck and took them down to a paddock of young sheep near the main road. The temperature was only 11 C that morning and almost no sun, but later there was a good sunset sky. Another short Landrover tour in the evening; we visited the old house that was on land that was added to Bouwick 15 years ago. Rather sad; it was now vandalised despite an attempt having being made recently to start restoring it. John pointed out an old wedge-tailed eagle's nest high in a tree.

Next day was a cattle working day, with Russell and Philip. With Landrover and one dog this time, rounding up 250 Hereford and other cattle including five bulls and several young calves, eventually into pens in the yard, which was an area of several pens, loading ramp, race and crush. In the afternoon the main work of the day was castrating about 20 calves (with rubber rings, even calves up to 2 months old), ear-tagging and ear-punching them. Half a dozen together in the crush made this easier. Philip also de-horned one cow with in-growing horns, using an embryo wire, a cutting wire with two handles as for cutting glass bottles, which sawed rapidly through the horns. Two of the bulls were then loaded into the truck and Russell and I took them the 12 miles to Phil's farm, where we also saw his new dam under construction. Finally the 'Santa Gertrudi' bull was transported to join the other herd, the 'Santas', in the North East corner of the farm. So an interesting day, quite hot in the morning but tempered by increasing cloud in the afternoon. But rather a dusty day.

Wednesday, October 25th
A day out north, to Lightning Ridge.
Started soon after 8. But it took 3 hours for the 150 miles, a long boring dead flat drive to Coonamble, then the Castlereagh Highway, a good tarmac road, another 68 miles without even a village to Walgett.
The object of anyone going to Lightning Ridge is to find out all about opals. It is the opal mining centre of Australia, and particularly the black opals which only occur in one other place. So we saw museums and shops full of opals and walked down two short worked-out mines, where the opal-bearing boulder clay seams are only 30 feet down in the overlying sandstone. Each mine had its well-explained video to watch. The whole area surrounding the town is still open to anyone wanting to stake a claim and dig, and we saw many shafts, filled and open, where some work is still carried on, on a more or less industrial basis. They say one can still find lots of opals in the old tips, but we of course did not.
A great event was light rain in the afternoon, but on returning home at 7 we found it could not have been more than a few drops there.

But the next day it did rain. We had a leisurely breakfast listening to the light but steady rainfall on the corrugated iron roof. Later another leisurely mid-morning tea party with Phil and Russell, still listening to the rain. In fact it rained most of the time from 6 am to 2 pm. Result 0.12''. Phil's Macanbar, only 12 miles away nearer the mountains, had 0.8''. I spent the afternoon with Russell again, searching for 9 rams and failing to find 2 of them, and then dividing the seven into 4 Merinos and 3 Dorsets, and then drove the Merinos to join the sheep flock at the opposite corner of the farm with the help of Ringo. Fine and sunny again after the rain.

Friday, October 27th
And a 7:15 am start! But only for John and me, so that made it slightly easier. Off to the mountains again and a good day's walk: 8 miles and 7 hours from 8 am to 3 pm and a climb of 2,500 feet, in hot but not oppressive sunshine and a cooling breeze on the tops. A circuit visiting the Bread Knife, the Grand High Tops, and Bluff Mountain (3,860 feet). Rocky paths through trees of various sorts depending on the height. And even stunted trees and bushes on the very exposed tops. Volcanic peaks with almost vertical sides in places, the Bread Knife being a thin vertical sill, several hundred yards long, only about 6 feet wide, and rising to some hundred feet above the path along its base. The Grand High Tops are a fine viewpoint, surrounded by spectacular features: Belougery Spire, Crater Bluff (an almost circular 'plug'), Tonduron Spire, The Bread Knife and Bluff Mountain. And then up Bluff Mountain itself, only 100 ft. lower than the highest peak, Mount Exmouth, a little farther to the west, and beyond it the limitless western plain extending way beyond Bouwick to the horizon.
A good day for flora and fauna Another koala soon after we left the car park, kangaroos (wallabies higher up), rosellas, king parrots, one a particularly good view eating its way up a branch of a gum tree, only about 20 feet away, not minding our presence. Wedge-tailed eagles soaring over a deep valley as we climbed Bluff Mountain. A prolific pink-mauve wild pea plant in flower on the lower slopes; late wattles flowering on the highest ridge; occasional dense stands of blackboys with their tall 'kangaroo tails' in flower. We hadn't planned to do the complete walk, but had brought a sufficient lunch to have biscuits and apple and plenty of drink on top of Bluff Mountain. We met two people near the car park as we started, and four more as we returned, otherwise nobody all day. John found and picked up by the tail a large ruffed lizard to entertain the latter four. The temperature was 31 c at Bouwick again.

Saturday, October 28th
An unlikely entertainment this morning was an hour's expedition by boat. That is to say, a 30 yard row across the nearest dam to an island, for John to do some brush cutting of thistles and other nasty things, and for me to do some spade work. This is known as 'chipping burrs' and involves getting rid of the galvanised burrs which infest all the land. We also found a nest of 3 goose eggs which John had suspected, as one goose had been missing recently.
Later we went out to a lunch party. This was at Wexford, 37 miles away, where we arrived at 1.15 for our 12 o'clock invitation. A sort of oasis with perhaps a dozen trees and a luxurious brick bungalow in the middle of a vast flat grassless plain. Lucy Bourke came out to meet us, in no hurry for lunch; Mervyn was out dipping sheep. She gave us an elaborate sort of hors d'oeuvre dish and cold drinks in the sitting room before John and I went out to see the sheep dipping. We had to shake hands of course with all the workers there. Then back to the house where Mervyn eventually appeared, and had to have a shower before lunch, followed by more talk before the meal was finally announced. It was now 2:30. But lunch was quite something in the end. A really luscious pizza-type dish surrounded by vegetables with plenty of iced lemonade. Lucy is Dutch; she came to Australia at 7 years old. They used to live at Bouwick and sold it to the Phillips' 17 years ago, and bought this piece of barren plain with its rich black soil. They obviously love it.
When we five had finished our first course, two new arrivals joined us from the sheep-dipping gang. They were Steven, the Bourkes' eldest son, and a neighbour. Eventually an equally luscious apple crumble and ice cream arrived. This was followed at length by tea and cake and melon, so it was 4:30 before lunch was finished and 5 o'clock before the afternoon's activity, which was a conducted tour of the farm in John's car.
We first visited the 'hill', a 25-foot high mound, with a trig-point on top, to admire what they call the 'magnificent view': dead flat with virtually no trees for miles, relieved only in the far east by the Warrambungle mountains. Admittedly a fine range, but from Wexford they are some 30 miles away, so only a very distant feature. We then viewed the cattle, and two wheat fields, where the soil was drying out into wide cavities. The cattle were thriving on apparently not a single green blade of grass, but all in good condition. At 6 o'clock we were invited to stay for tea, but, as we were leaving Bouwick next day, we refused, and took our leave at 6.30. A typical Australian day I suppose. The temperature was now 32 C.

Sunday, October 29th
A day of changed plans. Changed as far as I was concerned anyway, when they announced that we were going to visit the Zig-Zag railway, as it was a weekend and it only runs at weekends and it was on my list of 'things to do'. And they did not tell me all this until we had turned off our direct route when we were about a quarter of the way home. And we had not started until 11:30. When we did get to the railway (in the Blue Mountains), the last tourist train was just about to arrive at the end of its run. However, our late arrival, and John's story of my having come all the way from South Wales, did result in my being offered a ride on the footplate of the steam loco for part of its journey back down to its shed, as far as the first of the two great stone viaducts, one on each leg of the zig-zag. A bonus that was definitely not on my mind at the beginning of the day. Then we had a tour of some of the features of the Blue Mountains at sunset, before arriving home not until nearly 10 o'clock.
But I have forgotten to mention the brown snakes. I had been told about these (one of the 8 deadly snakes of Australia) which can sometimes be met at the farm, but, as they had only ever seen two or three in their 17 years there, they hardly give them a thought. Well, just a few minutes before we were ready to leave, Allison noticed one of these unwelcome visitors, very plain and innocuous looking, creeping round the corner of the bungalow. John immediately grabbed a spade, and gave it a well-aimed tap on the head. It seems that they live in pairs; five minutes later another one appeared and was dispatched in the same way. So that was two crimes committed; they are a protected species. Protected, that is, by the Government, but not by those who have to live or die with them.

Then there was a day of preparations for my next little holiday up to the North Coast. Into Gosford to buy a bus ticket and then walked back over the hill; I missed my way but found a large patch of wild arums colonising a sometimes swampy area, by way of compensation.
After lunch at 2:30, Debbie came over with Kate (a rather determined but charming nearly-4 year old), and Jennifer, and also Ann came in with Ellyn and Sophia.

Tuesday, October 31st
A 12 hour bus trip up to the North Coast of N.S.W. at Byron Bay, over 400 miles away. I got a lift with John to Ourimbah on the Pacific Highway to catch the bus at 8:20, and arrived at 8:50 in the evening, through Newcastle, Coffs Harbour and Ballina. Byron Bay Youth Hostel was large, with too many people and too many rules and regulations, but it did have a heated swimming pool.

Next morning I first tried to book a bus for Coffs Harbour, halfway back home, in two days' time, but discovered that the ticket I had could not be used for a broken journey. So using my infinite resource and sagacity, I devised a complete change of plan. I arranged to hire a car next day for two days, and then booked at the Murwillumbah Hostel 50 miles to the north on the River Tweed, and the gateway for Mount Warning National Park. All this rearrangement took most of the morning.
I then walked to the other Byron Bay Hostel to book there for Saturday and Sunday nights. This is a mile south of the town, and I then walked through sandhills to the long, long Tallow Beach, and back to Cape Byron along the sand and the edge of the surf; the water was definitely cold and there was no sun all day, and a strong but not cold wind. So it was a good, rather British-style walk, eventually up onto Cape Byron and the lighthouse and the footpath round the headland, the most easterly point of Australia; good cliffs but a very artificial paved path, with massive barriers.
Back at the hostel the evening was centred on a barbecue supper: as much as you could eat for A$8 (4 pounds). So I had a good go at the steaks and sausages (with pineapple) and at least a month's ration of wine. I finished with some more pineapple for a sweet course. This was with two people from Scunthorpe who were working their way round Australia for a year, earning money and then spending it all on holidays.

Thursday, November 2nd
I picked up my hired car, a small Mitsubishi Mira, at midday and drove up to Broken Heads, and then off on to the Round Mountain road, a nice hilly squiggly mostly gravel road, a pleasant long way round to Murwillumbah. Bananas growing beside the road in many places, with the fruit ripening in polythene bags.
Murwillumbah hostel, just as I had expected and hoped for, was very pleasantly perched above the wide tidal River Tweed with its own steep little garden down to its own little pontoon by the river. This was a very hot day again, and my first entertainment was a swim in the lovely warm water, slightly salty, but with a distinctly river smell too. The whole atmosphere of the place was very friendly and very different from Byron Bay, largely because of its small size and small number of people.
In the evening I walked up a hill more or less in the town, and took photos of jacaranda trees which were a dominant flowering feature of this town and surroundings. As the rather flimsy leaves are almost unnoticeable among the flowers, all the tree-tops are a mass of pale mauve. Free ice-cream dished out at 8 pm by the warden and his two daughters added to the family atmosphere of this unusual hostel.
My car was in great demand for lifts to Mount Warning next morning, even though I warned everyone that I had intended leaving by 7:30. The mountain is a fine prospect in the west with its pinnacle top almost Matterhornesque and looking almost unclimbable.

Friday, November 3rd
I did leave at 7:30, accompanied by Neil from Cwmbran, and Tim from Nottingham (who lives 'just off Bramcote Lane'!) Twenty miles to the Mount Warning National Park and Breakfast Creek, the start of the only path up. A 2000 ft climb through trees almost all the way and a final 300 ft scramble up rocks with a fixed chain (not really necessary) through scrub. The top of the pinnacle is in fact a small flat area surrounded by substantial look-out balconies almost too fully equipped with explanatory notices; it was difficult to get any photos without these obstructions intruding. Hazy distances made photos unsatisfactory anyway, but it was a very satisfactory place to spend an hour or so contemplating the scenery. We had been climbing between 8 and 10 in the morning but it was still quite hot enough. Several people on their way up as we descended looked even hotter than we were.
The afternoon back at the hostel was spent relaxing and writing and swimming in the river. More family party atmosphere with the warden and his family all joining in.
I took some sunset photos from the main road bridge with the Mt Warning range on the western skyline. Later, lightning flashes away in the South East provided entertainment for a couple of hours. There were fruit bats hanging from a tree very close to where we were sitting on the balcony.

Saturday, November 4th
I drove back to Byron Bay and returned the car, after leaving my rucksack at my next hostel, the Cape Byron Lodge. This looked a better bet than the other too large hostel, although not as conveniently placed, being nearly a mile from the centre. Then lunch on the beach and a swim in the breaking waves.
I walked up to the lighthouse and visited the whale centre, a permanent exhibition of all one needs to know about whales. Excellent slide show and exhibits, including history of the Byron Bay whaling industry which lasted until only about 30 years ago. Cape Byron is a major viewing point for the annual migration of hump-back whales to and from the Antarctic, but it seems I had just about missed it for this year; they had all gone South by now. I enjoyed the children's room and had fun making whale patterns on paper with the rubber stamps and ink pads provided.
I then walked back along the beach to the town and got a hostel bus to my new home. In the evening was a barbecue supper; so another good meat ration. The hostel a definite improvement on the other one.

Sunday, November 5th
Free pancakes and honey were provided for breakfast, although not until 8:30.
Byron Bay Sunday market: a great variety of stalls in a large open space near the centre of the town. I bought one or two Christmas presents, an iced sugar-cane drink (lemon flavoured), and the cheapest bananas I had yet encountered.
Then another walk along the beach towards Cape Byron; this time, being low tide, over the rocks of the first point and round to Wategos Beach. I had lunch and a swim there. A nice small beach with rocks as well as sand, a contrast to the miles of open beach more characteristic of this part of the coast. And then later on over the rocks of the next point to Little Wategos Beach and the low North Point of Cape Byron.
In the evening, thunder, lightning and torrential rain came as a contribution towards November 5th celebrations. I thought of our last November 5th sea bathe, and our bonfire on the beach afterwards, at Cherchell in Algeria in 1972.

Monday, November 6th
A late pancake breakfast again, and then the resident 9 ft long python was shown to me, although only a small part of its whole length was visible as it was resting in the rafters of the porch. It is a welcome pet apparently, and helps keep down the rats and mice. (I later wondered if this was a hoax.)
I took a bus for two miles south to Suffolk Park and another beach walk back again along Tallow Beach; open, wind-swept and hot in the sun, and not a house in sight. I was glad I had not chosen to go to the much advertised beaches farther north, such as Gold Coast and Surfers Paradise. Luckily I had seen photographs of these, with their continuous parade of beach-side tower block hotels, in time for me to reject them for this rather more agreeable area. Byron Bay has scarcely any buildings three storeys high - mostly old type wooden buildings giving a slightly shanty town look.
I returned to the hostel late in the afternoon, cooked myself a meal and got the hostel bus back into town at 6:30. I had time to take sunset photos of the bay and the cape with lovely colours and a full moon. I watched more lightning while waiting for the night bus back home to Gosford, due at 8:05; but was one and a quarter hours late. However, it was more comfortable than the outward trip and I had a double seat to myself on the top deck.

In the morning, looking out of the bus through the mist, half asleep, I noticed a signpost pointing to 'Stroud, Gloucester'. Where in the Cotswolds was I? Anyway I did arrive back in Gosford soon after 8, where John was waiting for me. He had had rather a long wait even though the bus was now only three quarters of an hour late.
Breakfast, a shower, and sleep from 9:30 to 12:00.
Then a 'short' trip into Gosford, and home for a 3:30 lunch (yes, 3:30). 'Our plans are always flexible', they say; the perfect word, perhaps, for their freedom of movement.
I had an evening walk on my own up the hill behind the house, Rumbalara Hill, and found some new paths leading to a rather long walk back along the road.

Wednesday, November 8th
I had another walk up the hill and this time I saw a wallaby; this was quite an achievement as John and Allison had never seen one there.
In the afternoon Debbie came over again with Kate and Jennifer and we went in her car out to The Entrance; this means the entrance from the sea to Tuggerah Lake, and we went there to see the pelican feast. Every afternoon at 3:30 a load of fish is brought out from the fish shop and fed to a flock of pelicans, who swim forwards across the water, and some even come on to the concrete bank where a low amphitheatre has been made specially for this entertainment. There was quite an audience and a short recorded commentary on the habits of pelicans. Some of them flew off with their catch, which transformed them from their rather clumsy walk to the elegance of flight. I then bought them all real ice-creams (the people that is, not the pelicans).
In the evening we went over to David's and Vicky's house at Saratoga where I met the other four of the seven children that I hadn't seen before: Tanya 10, Daniel 8, Vanessa 7, Alexander 5. We stayed one and a half hours as John wanted to spend '5 minutes' with David learning about a new lap-top computer.

Thursday, November 9th
Up into the Blue Mountains by train to Katoomba, for another short holiday on my own. Once again, the standard cheap ticket for 'old age' took me the whole way (over 100 miles) for just two dollars.
From Gosford down to Strathfield on the outskirts of Sydney, and then the pleasant winding train journey up into the hills. The youth hostel at Katoomba was near the town centre, a large old former guest house of rather British atmosphere. Katoomba is the centre of the tourist industry of the Blue Mountains, so it was not long before I started on the most interesting features: all the walks and bush trails up and down and above and below the long line of magnificent sandstone cliffs above which the town stands.
My first walk started with the scenic railway, a cable railway (the steepest in the world apparently), 1 in 1.3, partly in tunnel, made originally for mining operations below the cliff. From the bottom an easy path inhabited mainly by Japanese tourists leads in a short distance to the bottom of the Katoomba falls, a fine sight even with rather little water.
This seemed to be the limit of Japanese tourism, and from there a rough and stony track leads along the base of the cliff past the Three Sisters, the well known great rock pinnacles, round to the base of the Giant Stairway, 800 steps up the cliff face. However I had plenty of time to carry on more or less horizontally as far as the Leura Falls and then up the 'Leura staircase'. This starts with three sections of nearly vertical steel ladders, followed by steps up the side of the falls. Near the top, whilst wondering which way to go at a junction, I met someone else doing the same. An unlikely meeting; obviously European, he turned out to be Croatian. We did not discuss his country's distress, but he did know Gracac, the scene of a caving holiday Marion and I had had over 30 years ago, so that was a little bit of common ground.

Friday, November 10th
By diligent study of bus time tables I was able to catch a school bus to Evan's Lookout at Blackheath about 12 miles from Katoomba. Evan's Lookout is just above the Grand Canyon; not as grand as some, but nevertheless a genuine 1,000 foot deep canyon, approached down Neate's Glen, a very steep path with steps in places down through rainforest vegetation. The path through the Canyon is sometimes at water level, sometimes 100 feet or more up the side, a wonderfully mysterious place. One impression remains of a fine sandy beach under a massive overhanging rock, with the dark stream flowing by, and the canyon wall rising vertically out of the water for 1,000 feet.
The lower end of the canyon led to another path up the cliff, and then I had a cliff-top walk to the Bridal Veil Falls, and up a small creek by the Braeside Path. From the cliff-top the view down into the densely forested valley below and out to the mountains beyond is really quite impressive, and alluring.
I had a pleasant long rest sitting beside this Braeside Creek on a sandbank with water flowing gently over a rock slide into a pool. I had a dip in the pool; it was only just big enough for lying in, and not swimming, but very cool and refreshing nevertheless; I had no towel so I dried off in the hot sun. Water is permanent in this creek as it flows though bogs on either side - hillside bogs with coral ferns protected by 'dagger hakea' plants. The bogs absorb the rain and let it seep gradually and continually into the stream. I met no people on this short Braeside path, although there were several on the main cliff-top path and a few in the Grand Canyon.

Saturday, November 11th
By train from Katoomba down to Zig-Zag, the diminutive station at the bottom of the Zig-Zag Railway, a station only just long enough for one door of one coach to stop at the platform. This was in order to view the Zig-Zag Railway from the lower end, and to take photos of the steam locomotive working up the banks. I arrived just before the loco of the day left the shed to take the empty train to the top of the hill to start the tourist trips. An impressive view of steam and smoke as it started slipping on the short 1 in 17 slope up from the shed and had to reverse and start again. I was then allowed to walk along the track and through a short tunnel to see the train climb across the two viaducts one above the other on the two legs of the zig-zag.
Back at Katoomba soon after midday for another cliff walk. This time down the Katoomba Falls steps to the bottom of the scenic railway again. A train that arrived as I passed was entirely full of Japanese tourists. Then along the path westwards to the start of the great landslide, a massive jumble of fallen rocks where I had a hot sunny lunch. Then back again past the Katoomba Falls and Three Sisters to the bottom of the Giant Stairway, and then up all those 800 steps to Echo Point lookout, the standard point for viewimg the Three Sisters from above.

Next morning it was really cold with a mountain mist and only half a mile visibility, but luckily I was due to leave that day. I caught a train soon after 8 to Sydney, and there met Michael Hort by arrangement at midday. We had a short walk round the Opera House and then he took me back by car to his flat at Mosman, to meet Marlou. In the afternoon we all went to a sort of barbecue party, but they didn't seem to know anyone there, and that was followed by a car trip round the coast road to South Head and Bondi. But it was still cold and cloudy and a bit wet all day. However in the evening Marlou and I had a good walk along Balmoral Beach, their nearest beach, in the bright sunset.
There is a good view of the harbour bridge from their flat with a lovely flowering jacaranda tree in the foreground, and the bridge all lit up at night.

Monday, November 13th
Michael and Marlou left soon after 7, leaving me in charge of my breakfast. I then walked down to the Mosman ferry and had a pleasant journey across the harbour in the rather warm sunshine again.
I walked to the Botanical Gardens, and to the State Library where I did a little bit of research. This led me to find out at last the origin of and the first use of the name 'New South Wales'. An interesting but not very romantic story, but satisfying to have found it. The name was not apparently first used by Captain Cook himself, but by the editor of his journal, who made it up to please himself; New England, New Wales, and even New North Wales having already been used elsewhere.

Tuesday, November 14th
John, Allison and I went off on our trip to Canberra, an essential part of my Australian education, it seemed.
The 4 hour journey got us there at 3:30, but by that time it was raining and misty. We drove up Black Mountain and all round the lake, to try and give me a general impression of the place, but a rather disappointing day ended early with them leaving me at the youth hostel while they went off to stay with friends at Queanbeyan, about 10 miles away. Anyway, the hostel was a pleasant place among trees on the edge of the town.

Wednesday, November 15th
A day well worth having. Sun, lovely clouds and distant views. A concentrated Canberra day. Had a walk up the hill, behind the hostel before breakfast and was collected by John and Allison at 9:30, actually on time! We went up Black Mountain again and up the Telstra tower by lift. Aerial views of the city from two circular viewing platforms, one enclosed with much information supplied, and one open, a nice airy place with sun and a strong cold breeze. Then to the war memorial, and its vast underground war museum. Plenty of interest, and all very well presented, but far too much to see and digest, despite spending quite a long time there.
Then up to the top of Mount Ainslie, the highest point in the city to view the 'vista' over the war memorial and the lake straight to the distant Capital Hill and Parliament House. Then on to Parliament House itself, the new 1980 version on top of Capital Hill. It is built into the hill so that the grassy slopes up to the top are on the roof of the building. All topped by very high bright steel four-legged flagstaff. The building not pleasant to behold outside, but some remarkable architectural features inside. We had lunch in the restaurant there with uninterrupted views over the lake back to the war memorial.
We visited the House of Representatives with its green seats to match the House of Commons, and then to a sitting of the Senate in the red seats of the Senate House, where a debate was in progress, with many distracting interruptions about some boring subject I have now forgotten about. Finally a devious drive back to the hostel taking in Duntroon, the military academy (equivalent to Sandhurst), where we were allowed to drive anywhere except across the parade ground.

Thursday, November 16th
Sunny again and we finished off Canberra in the morning. First to the Central Library, not in fact as big as the State Library in Sydney. Then to the Old Parliament House, which was used from 1927 to 1980, of rather more interest, and then the High Court building of considerable architectural interest (mostly bare concrete), and the added attraction of a court in session, in one of the three courts. Six judges including Chief Justice Brennan were hearing an apparently complex insurance case between a football club and an insurance company. We stayed for the statutory 10 minutes as we were expected to. A very quiet affair with barrister and judges conversing very matter-of-factly with each other.
We left for home at 1 pm. We had a stop for an unexpectedly large lunch; a roll we had ordered turned out to be a massive plateful, outside a small cafe in the small town of Bungendore, where we also did some shopping in woodwork and leather shops, despite the fact that John was hoping to get home in time to go out to a meeting at 6. We might have got there in time but too much traffic on the outskirts of Sydney about 5 in the evening delayed us till 6:30.
On reflection, Canberra is a very worthwhile expedition. Left to myself, I would not have chosen Canberra for a three day holiday, but I was very glad to have been and seen. The most staggering aspect is the newness of it all. Virtually entirely bush farming land in 1910 and the seat of government only since 1927, and the great long trans-city lake, the chief feature of the original design, was not there until 1963; without that it would have been a most unsatisfying prospect. But is it a good thing for all those politicians, civil servants and lawyers to be stuck out there on their own, a world away from anyone living a normal social life?

Friday, November 17th
After a phone-call to Gulf Air confirming my flight home for Tuesday, the end of my travels seemed now in sight.
Little shopping in Gosford in the morning and another walk back on my own over Rumbalara Hill. Helen had demanded a hat with corks hanging from it 'like all Australians wear', and I actually managed to find one; but it was in a gift shop, not in a shop normal Australians would use.
In the evening to the Gosford amateur theatre group, and the lavish production of 'Evita', the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. Amateur maybe, but exceptionally professional. I don't see how a genuine professional show could have been any better.

Saturday, November 18th
A family party at a model railway park, where we met David with his eldest 5 children and Darryl, with Kate and Jennifer. A permanent track layout of two gauges 9" and 12", with many fascinating steam locomotives, and trains to ride on. There was also a display of vintage agricultural oil engines, old cars and modern Harley Davidson motorcycles, taking children for rides. We spent several hours there as the children were obviously enjoying it all so much, in the really hot sunshine.
That evening we had an unusually interesting walk from home, John and Allison and I. We set off at 5:30 towards Mount Elliot, but there was never any real hope of getting that far before dark. Up Rumbalara Hill by the usual path, then a long ridge bush walk. It was difficult to believe that all this wild natural hill country can exist so close to the heavily suburbanised regions down in the valleys. We reached a lookout point at 6:30, which unfortunately no longer lived up to its name due to the growth of trees all round. Here Allison and I managed to persuade John that perhaps we should be starting back, as dark clouds were approaching and distant thunder rolled. As the storm approached and a little rain began to fall and lightning flashed round us, we realised that we had somehow diverged on to a wrong track and were no longer heading back towards Rumbalara Hill. The rain increased considerably but we had decided not to shelter, as by now the increasing darkness was not only due to the dark clouds, so we stumbled on, still on some sort of track, until quite suddenly we found ourselves descending into the back garden of a house. Here three girls were just about to go out in a car and they gave Allison and me a lift to the nearest road, through the now heavy rain, while John continued walking, there being no more room in the car.
Now we more or less knew where we were, and found a road leading up towards Rumbalara Hill, which developed into a path, which developed into a rock scramble on to the top. Now we were really in home country and were able to take a well known path for the rest of the way. Quite dark by now, still raining, and it was 8:15 before we finally reached home. After a welcome hot shower, soup and omelette were soon produced to end an interesting evening.

And then it rained for 3 whole days. These 3 days included another family party at Ann's and Paul's house, for me to meet Suzette and Guy for the first time, and their children: Justin 9, Ryan 7 and Mitchell 1. Swimming in the heated pool in the rain, reminded me of that rather wet holiday at Gelston Castle, in Scotland.

The next day I was taken to see Eleanor, aged 87, at Kuring-Gai nursing home near Hornsby. She was very welcoming, looking rather old but easily recognisable as the Eleanor I had last seen in 1960 on her last visit to Britain. Now paralysed on one side after two strokes, but always active with reading, jigsaw puzzles and crosswords. She had plenty to talk about; many reminiscences of her visits to Britain in 1938 and 1950. She remembered playing 'general knowledge' with me when I was 10 years old, and was very keen to hear all the latest activities of her British relations. She must have been born in the same year that Auntie Bee was visiting the family after her trans-Siberian journey - but she would not quite remember that. That evening a dinner party for me with Debbie and Darryl at their house at Narara, with entertainment from Kate and ever-smiling Jennifer, who both stayed up for the party.

Tuesday, November 21st
Finally the day of activating my patiently waiting ticket to London. 5 o'clock in the evening, and a train to Sydney. A farewell delegation on the platform at Gosford consisted of John and Allison, Debbie, Kate and Jennifer. So it was 'good bye' until we meet on our next travels in one direction or another.
The airport express bus from Sydney central got me to the airport for my 7:20 check-in time for my 10:20 Gulf Air flight, calling at Melbourne, Singapore, and changing planes at Bahrein, arriving at Heathrow 28 hours later. The best aspect was having two seats to myself for the night, enabling a certain amount of sleep, but it was annoying to have to disembark at Melbourne for 30 minutes at midnight. Disembarkation at Singapore at dawn was welcomed, with a brisk walk all round the airport building for half an hour. And then there were 18 hours of continuous sunshine as we followed the sun across half the world. I had a pleasant companion from Singapore to Bahrein; an Australian girl who worked for Gulf Air and was travelling as a passenger on her way back from holiday at home in Brisbane; apparently the Gulf Air staff at Bahrein come from 46 different countries. At Bahrein we were more than an hour late so the next plane was conveniently waiting. From there I was accompanied by Jackie, organiser of ski touring expeditions, who had been visiting her husband in the RAF.
I unintentionally secured an invitation for us both to visit the flight deck flying over Hungary. As we approached Europe I had asked one of the stewardesses if she could find out what route we would be taking. She did so, and returned with this invitation from the Captain. A most interesting half hour. We were shown how to fly the plane, a matter of setting up the route on a computer before starting, and then 'sitting back and going to sleep', as I suggested. But no. Continual monitoring is necessary and while we were over Budapest he decided to climb another 4,000 feet to avoid storms, so we saw how that manoeuvre was carried out. Permission from control and then setting up instruments to alter the rate and inclination of climb, very discreetly so that the passengers would not notice.
Then as the sun finally set into the clouds above London, we dipped down into them and found our way to Heathrow. Rosalind and Bernard appeared, having moved over from Waterloo in the last two months to meet me again. Although the time (4:30 pm) ought to have seemed to me like 2 o'clock next morning, the continual sunshine had made me feel not at all tired. However, I did sleep for 12 hours that night.

Thursday, November 23rd
Finally, next day over to Edgware again for lunch with Jennifer and Ambar, and then ignominiously missing my South Wales train at Paddington due to the disruption of reconstruction work at King's Cross underground station. My first missed train, and a delay of one hour.
However, 7 o'clock in the evening brought Carmarthen again, and Marion, just 70 days after leaving them.

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