Musings from Barcaldine

Thursday 8th November, 2001 Stock and forty degree anarchy Here I am at Cumberland wrestling with a futile hope that the clouds thick and full of promise might crack open and sweep out the rain. Then me – killing time with blue funny face icy poles to remedy the forty-three degree hell for a few … Continue reading Musings from Barcaldine

Next stop, Cape Cod

So we pull into a town called ‘Sandwich’ and guess what we can’t find? So we have pecan pie instead. We drive on through trees that hang over our car like they're trying to listen to our conversations. Pointing the tank in the direction of Rhode Island, one afternoon we're sitting on barrels, scraping lobster … Continue reading Next stop, Cape Cod