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Not dead, but only sleeping late. Last weekend was spent on a small island in... not the harbour, probably, but some large body of water in the vicinity of Sydney. One of the large bodies of water. Not one of the ones with "ocean" in the name, though, I don't think.
Having to make statements like that makes me uncomfortably aware how little I know about what I'm talking about. So, I turn to the last refuge of the clueless to learn that this island is apparently located in Pittwater, and that
There are no shops or industrial zones which means that it is not a very busy community. But it was not always like that, a hundred years ago salt was extracted from seawater near what is now known as Tennis wharf. Using an oil burner about 90kg were extracted a week.Hmm. I suppose that, in principle, anyone could put up a Wikipedia entry about their own neighbourhood, wherever it may be, and say any old shit they wanted to about it.
Anyway, it was intimidatingly gorgeous. I scraped my foot up fairly well attempting to climb a buoy in the middle of (what I suppose must have been) Pittwater, but so far have not observed any coral formations sprouting out of my ankle. This is especially good news in light of the fact that I don't have health insurance. Which reminds me: all sorts of other unpleasant real-world issues have been threatening to intrude, as well - but so long as I can still drink rum and read A.J. Liebling on a small island somewhere, they can always be put off for another day.