My haircuts around the world continue to vary. The young stylist in Fremantle has cut it dramatically short and managed to stab my ear into the bargain. It’s shorter than Hong Kong even, though bears no resemblance to Nigel Kennedy. And the cut was not deep. Silver linings, eh?
Western Australia has been pleasant, but somewhat deflating. I think that right through the trip our failure to reach the Ningaloo Reef continued to register as an unconscious frustration, and the low-key delights of the southern coasts and forests, handsome rather than spectacular, couldn’t quite overcome it. The mammal-watching turning out less good than we’d expected can’t have helped, but I feel guilty being miffed about this when I reflect that it’s far more devastating that the local mammals are in seemingly terminal decline than that this meant we couldn’t see them.
So yeah, touring around south-west Australia and staying in some out-of-the-way cabins in nature reserves has been pleasant but hardly epic. Most Memorable Moments go to: climbing the forest lookout tree, paddling with stingrays and sitting with a quokka on Rottnest island.
If today’s post lacks a little punch, it’s probably because I’m writing at 8:10am in Sydney airport but really still 5:10am in Perth where we boarded the flight at 11pm and we’ve still got a flight to Queentown in half-an-hour that arrives at 1:50pm which is still 11:50am here. Oh, and I forgot to sleep on the plane because I had a good book in hand. Transit nights, gotta love ’em.
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