I’ve been back in Brisbane a few days: visa stuff. It’s good to be here, and Easter in South-East Queensland brings the best weather all year, but the trip hasn’t been without its traumas, and I don’t just mean the flying part.
On arriving back at my parents’ on the North Side, frazzled and frayed, I tore off all my plane-contaminated clothing and threw it in the wash. Returned from an urgent revisit to my favourite coffee place, Sandgate’s Mug Shots, to find my gear neatly hanging on the line — and in a little patch of sunlight, pathetic and wrinkled and dripping wet like the Easter Bunny after you throw the varmint from a bridge: my passport, freshly laundered.
Cargo pants, so many stash spots to keep track of.
Last night I had a catch-up with a handful of 30-odd-year friends, and the worry about those crucial travel docs nearly ruined the whole evening for me. But Phil and Cathy drove me home via the passport office in the city (where we were skinned to the tune of $33 for 45 minutes’ parking), and it seems that even after a half-hour wash cycle my papers are still scannable and I might just avoid the $375 replacement fee.
I’ve done some walking, the local haunts, and have managed two lovely dawns and tonight’s magnificent sunset on the edge of Moreton Bay. I have a three-day walk in mind before I depart on Friday week. Today I checked the weather app and found that the Tuesday-afternoon temp here matched exactly that of Monday-night Saratoga: 18C.
Balmy, palmy days. I’ve earned them. And to remind you of why, here’s the next part of my winter-shots series. See you in a couple of days!
3rd and final instalment coming soon!
~ And that’s all the Goat wrote