Summertime = Party Time

Kinda how I feel today - happy and shabby.

The dawn patrol has never been a problem for me as I have always been an early riser. When I was a kid, one of my chores was to meet the baker out in the street with 46 cents for the two loaves of white bread that would feed our family of eight for a day. But today is proving tough. I only got to sleep a few hours ago and some guy up the road sounds like he’s a logger in the old growth Kin Kin scrubs. Obviously another morning person.

Dawn patrol. Big Granite. 1980's

First coffee of the day. I need to post something about the great party we went to last night for my old buddy Gaz. Last century, we skated, sailed, camped, surfed and partied hard together. He was my co-pilot to the original Tannelorn Music Festival, though wasn’t much use keeping me awake on the New England highway on the way home. A take away coffee scalded me as I nodded off at the wheel of the Holden Gemini in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. At least that kept me awake down the steep descent after Cunningham’s Gap.

Apart from sleep deprivation, I have this almighty pain in the finger normally used for giving negative non-verbal advice. Maybe it’s arthritis. As Captain Jimmy said last night at Gaz’s party, “In my mind, I’m still 18, but my body tells me that I’m 60”. He’s still sailing hard after seven Sydney to Hobart’s and quite a few Melbourne to Osaka’s.

Don’t know if Jimmy ever surfed, but Capain Steve, Gaz’s brother used to before their parents built the Swiss Chalet overlooking Point Perry. He got roused on by the well built bouncer last night for drinking his rum and coke outside of the designated drinking area. Steve sails his boat Graffitti like a 45’ surfboard so land boundaries become difficult to conceptualise.

The noisey logger up the road has been joined by a swarm of cicadas reminding me that summertime = party time. Another coffee should do it.