I went below!
Apropos of the last post on Notorious, the caravel…
We attended the Wooden Boat Festival and I went aboard this amazing replica.
Lack of space is the most intense sensation – I had thought caravels were so much bigger.
Wake up and get straight into swimsuit. Sky is pale blue, maybe smoke haze from Victoria.
Down to the beach to favourite pozzie in front of pine trees. Smells resinous in the warmth.
In water by 10AM. Glorious. Walk through waist deep shallows in boat channel, moving out of way of incomers and outgoers. Then just dive in and swim a few lengths between the marker poles. Float on back like a star. Hair drifting out, rocking with the odd tiny wave, can hear the odd tic-tic-tic sound of ‘under the sea’.
As we sat surrounded by smoke last Friday, the little town of Dunalley battled the odds.
It’s a sweet town, situated round the Dunalley Canal which enables pleasure and fishing boats to shortcut into the Derwent Estuary from the Tasman Sea rather than chancing the exposed southern tip of Tassie and the Southern Ocean.
*This is a reprise of an article I was invited to post on English Historical Fiction Authors*
If, like me, the generations of one’s family in Tasmania can be traced back to Settlement, then it is a fair enough assumption to believe there exists a convict somewhere in the family tree. My great great grandfather was such a man.
I’ve known today’s Big Red Chair guest since I was seventeen. She has always seemed grounded in the face of adversity, and being less grounded, it fascinated me how she found such surety. Faced twenty- five years ago with the birth of a disabled child, this woman didn’t once allow difficulty to strike her down. Rather, she became stronger, and a staunch advocate for those less fortunate than ourselves. She has wisdom and profound thoughts,