SATURDAY 27 JULY FORREST BEACH
I got up just before 8am. Couey had continued to be good in the mornings, not getting out of her front seat “nest” and coming down the back of Bus to try to wake us up. She just waited quietly and patiently until I was ready to take her for her morning walk.
The day was still windy and cloudy.
I walked up to the shop to collect the papers, with dog. She was a bit reluctant to leave, without John, who was still asleep, but once we’d left the park, was happy enough. She didn’t object to being tied outside the shop, this morning. I bought a couple of postcards, too.
John left, in the car, before midday, for bowls, bearing a cut lunch.
I enjoyed my own space, for the afternoon. Packed my doona away under the bed. The nights now were warm enough for just the sheet and a light fleece throw.
Couey and I went for a walk on the beach – my first time on the beach since we arrived!
There were not the wide, firm expanses of sand to walk on, that I remembered from last time. I wondered if cyclones since had changed the shape of the beach drastically. Then decided it was probably towards high tide and that might explain it. I would have to do some research and find out the tide times.
Walking on the soft sand was hard work, but we got almost as far as the row of beach front houses, a distance along the beach, an area called Cassadys Beach.
The sea was quite rough, due to the wind.
Couey free-ranged on the sand, but kept well away from the waves.
Back at Bus, I read the papers – inside, as it was still too windy to sit out. If this pattern of weather was the norm, at this time of year, the stay here would not be as pleasant as hoped.
There was much in the papers about the Prime Minister’s recently announced Manus Island policy for asylum seekers arriving illegally by boat, and about the upsurge in numbers trying to reach here before that policy came into effect. It seemed the people smugglers were trying every trick.
A rig came in next to us this afternoon – neighbours on both sides, now.
John enjoyed his bowls at Macknade. Last time here, he’d preferred the atmosphere at that club more than at the Ingham one.
Made a salad for tea, inventing it as I went along – potatoes, beans, olives, capers, capsicum, with a balsamic dressing. Put some prawns on lettuce, with sliced avocado, and my salad beside that. It all worked out quite well.
Again, football was on TV at night. Keeps the man of the establishment happy. Except when Carlton loses!