Thursday, 18 June 2009
Died and gone to heaven
A brilliant Saturday winter's morning had Dad and I sitting in the car on Middle Head above Obelisk Beach, sipping coffee, munching Orange Slice biscuits and watching fisherfolk sway in the swell as our gaze became entangled in the immensity of all distances east. In 1942 - as a raw army recruit of 21 - Dad and his mates used to slide down from their huts above the handkerchief-beach and glory in an hour or so of larrikin freedom.
The previous Saturday morning, we had viewed a very similar scene but this time from North Head looking back up the harbour, with the red stripes of Hornby Light and the light-keeper cottages on the point of South Head. The apartments in the distance are in the suburbs of Rose Bay, Point Piper and Darling Point - all very swish and not for the likes of he'n'me. From South Head to the Harbour Bridge - by water - is about 6 kms. The crow would probably do it in half that.
And yes: we are in winter.