saturday afternoon
May. 12th, 2007 03:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I'm sitting on the verandah of a house that was originally built in the 1920s. The sun's out and filtering through the screen of trees, keeping the space warm, but there's a slight breeze flowing past. It's probably about 23-24C, I'm sitting here in jeans and a short-sleeve tee, and listening to the occasional car rumble past and the guesthouse manager and her son clip the trees.
The verandah is long and wooden with a corrugated iron roof. An assortment of tables and chairs are scattered across it, an amusing mismatch. There's a faded oval rug on the verandah. It was probably once plush, but years of feet and weather have faded it to a rather ugly green. It also fails to match the pink and purple floral motif of the wicker chairs, and the heavy gold edging of the large cushions on the white bedseat.
There's a boganvillea tree, climbing over one end near the barbecue grill. Its crepe flowers flutter and the long sweeping boughs bounce gently up and down in the breeze. Beside it, a frangipani stretches out stubby branches ending in leafy spouts, and floral clusters of white and sunshine-yellow, echoing the white of the painted brick entranceway to the stairs and the gold of the sunshine reflecting off the flat-leaved bush below it.
It's a lazy afternoon, warm and comfortable, and I'm just sitting here, writing on my laptop after going out to Huskisson this morning, doing a bit of meandering driving, and getting back to Nowra and wandering around the city centre and the shops for a bit. Definitely 'small town'. But not necessarily bad. The countryside around is magnificent.
I've got my place to move into - the jacuzzi and wireless house - but won't be moving in until Monday since the couple are away for the weekend and not back until Monday. So I'm still at the guesthouse. The suburb is one of 'mcmansions' - a lot of new houses, probably with a few people who overextended their mortgage - there are a lot of 'for sale' signs.
sharim, I met one of your dive instructors in a dive shop in Huskisson after arranging to go diving in Jervis Bay and mentioning my friend Shaz from Tasmania who's a big dive enthusiast and... "What's her full name? Oh, yeah, I did her dive instructor course..."
He actually mentioned that I should do an actual diving course, not just a 'resort dive' (where they teach you, gear you up, take you up, and put you down. Apparently it's a good time of year for it. And I'm seriously considering it.
Huskisson this morning - nice drive. 30 minutes to the beaches, with no traffic and parking at the end. I had an eggs benedict with smoked salmon and two chai lattes (they were so nice, I had a second one and wrote a couple hundred more words) and am still quite full from that. Dinner is not being contemplated at this stage, although that might change in the next hour. In the end, it oughta be something light, I think. Not too filling.
Tomorrow, I think I'll head in to Berry, which is a picturesque town about 30 mins away. Head on up early, see if I can't find somewhere to serve me honey and butter on fresh bread, and just wander up and down the streets for the day. It's mother's day, so I'll call my mother from there. We agreed that there was no need for us to do something on Mother's Day (or, as I think it should be called, International Guilt Trip Day) since I usually see or speak to mum at least once a week, so we'll do something another weekend when everyone else isn't taking their yearly guilt trip.
And then it's back for week two.
The verandah is long and wooden with a corrugated iron roof. An assortment of tables and chairs are scattered across it, an amusing mismatch. There's a faded oval rug on the verandah. It was probably once plush, but years of feet and weather have faded it to a rather ugly green. It also fails to match the pink and purple floral motif of the wicker chairs, and the heavy gold edging of the large cushions on the white bedseat.
There's a boganvillea tree, climbing over one end near the barbecue grill. Its crepe flowers flutter and the long sweeping boughs bounce gently up and down in the breeze. Beside it, a frangipani stretches out stubby branches ending in leafy spouts, and floral clusters of white and sunshine-yellow, echoing the white of the painted brick entranceway to the stairs and the gold of the sunshine reflecting off the flat-leaved bush below it.
It's a lazy afternoon, warm and comfortable, and I'm just sitting here, writing on my laptop after going out to Huskisson this morning, doing a bit of meandering driving, and getting back to Nowra and wandering around the city centre and the shops for a bit. Definitely 'small town'. But not necessarily bad. The countryside around is magnificent.
I've got my place to move into - the jacuzzi and wireless house - but won't be moving in until Monday since the couple are away for the weekend and not back until Monday. So I'm still at the guesthouse. The suburb is one of 'mcmansions' - a lot of new houses, probably with a few people who overextended their mortgage - there are a lot of 'for sale' signs.
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He actually mentioned that I should do an actual diving course, not just a 'resort dive' (where they teach you, gear you up, take you up, and put you down. Apparently it's a good time of year for it. And I'm seriously considering it.
Huskisson this morning - nice drive. 30 minutes to the beaches, with no traffic and parking at the end. I had an eggs benedict with smoked salmon and two chai lattes (they were so nice, I had a second one and wrote a couple hundred more words) and am still quite full from that. Dinner is not being contemplated at this stage, although that might change in the next hour. In the end, it oughta be something light, I think. Not too filling.
Tomorrow, I think I'll head in to Berry, which is a picturesque town about 30 mins away. Head on up early, see if I can't find somewhere to serve me honey and butter on fresh bread, and just wander up and down the streets for the day. It's mother's day, so I'll call my mother from there. We agreed that there was no need for us to do something on Mother's Day (or, as I think it should be called, International Guilt Trip Day) since I usually see or speak to mum at least once a week, so we'll do something another weekend when everyone else isn't taking their yearly guilt trip.
And then it's back for week two.