After a spate of visitors, life has settled to a state of ennui. My teaching friends from the community out east have visited twice, and my niece was here for a week, but now I feel dispirited and a bored. No direction. Maybe it is the heat. The pedagogical couple kept me on my toes though. They like the visits to ‘the city’, enjoy the fresh fruit and vegetables, the Thai food, and the stop-over in a hotel room in downtown Darwin. At least there is TV in their room there. My new abode is devoid of TV, and I will get one – the pressure from those who think it weird not to have one is too great. But I get the news on the internet, and a meal eaten in front of the computer is not too bad – as long as there are moving pictures to watch. Nonetheless, despite the nearness of the outside world via my Telstra USB wireless modem, I feel lack lustre, more beige than a lively red. The US Open tennis has finished, Roger has been defeated and life must go on. Perhaps the heat contributes to the lack of motivation – the hot dry, soon to become the ‘build up’.
I walk at sunset on the beach to cool off. The red sun is so beautiful, the lapping waves are warm, and I feel like I am on holidays. The best time is probably on a moonlit night, the cliffs are in shadow and the breeze circles up and over. What a relief. Morning walks on the beach are pretty good too. And there are so many dogs out and about with their masters. This must be dog city. Just gotta watch that poo on the beach, though that no one seems compelled to pick up, and the tiny tiny chips of glass (broken beer bottles?) that prick holes in the soles of my feet and leave me limping until I can get home and gouge out the pain with tweezers.
The free-loading rat/cum possum/cum mezzinine dweller above my garage flat is still resident. He/she is most active during the early hours of the morning, before I’d rather be awake, when it either skitters back and forth at Formula 1 speed over the boards between the two floors, or gnaws away at dead animal bones for hours – scrape, scrape, scrape. a bit of an Edgar Alan Poe thing happening there I think.
