Driving Ms. Deane

Pausing for a break from writing (not working).

Thistle The Cat sleeps soundly. I was in the mood for the bleakness of 20th Century Modernism. Go figure.

Sunday shopping in the suburban capital of the universe is not one of life's hardships.

Happiness is a cat whose human is home (and vice versa).

New Year's resolution #1. Do not drive the car into a ditch.

New Year's Day. Dooralong, NSW. After the rain.

Driving home to Spike's parents for New Year.

Which matters most -- the journey or the destination? Actually, a skilled mechanic come auto-electrician is crucial to success.

Dougie 'wakes up' to smell the roses.

Down time. Sunday in Spike Deane's garden. Work can wait. We'll shake some different tree tomorrow.

I was born a city boy. And I have grown into a suburban adult, it would seem.

We awoke a little late. I think we have a plausible excuse (see the preceding 55 hours). As I should have anticipated, there were no...

We bade farewell to Stephanie, the cats and the Trullo early. Joe drove us across the 'heel' to Taranto from where our train for Milano...

We begin our long journey back to Australia tomorrow -- north to Paris by train then two flights back to the big southern island. So here...

The chirping of cicadas in 70 year old olive trees is the only sound to disturb the peace. Do cicadas chirp? I am too hot to care. The...

We drove from coast to coast across the 'heel' of the 'boot' that is mainland Italy. From the Adriatic Sea to the Ionian Sea. From...

My brother warned me that life in the Trullo would be rustic ... that's the word he used. Rustic. Did he mention it would be rustic and...

My younger brother provides my verifiable first memory. In a taxi. In the rain. In Aberdeen. I was -- what? -- three and a half years old...

Our first Italian train -- Frecciarossa 9281. The 7:20 a.m. from Paris Gare de Lyon to Milano Centrale, arriving 2:07 p.m. Change trains...