Monday 3^rd December

Happy birthday/s to Pete and Andrea Harmsen – Pete yesterday, Andrea today – my Cameraman Brother Extraordinaire, and my beautiful sister-in-law.  I rang Pete yesterday.  He was standing on a windy sand dune filming the Mark Webber Challenge.  Andrea, no doubt, was keeping the home fires burning, as she does, with style and grace.

When we are at sea I particularly love and appreciate our Attenborough Moments.  Whales, seals, albatross, flying fish, sharks, all manner of wonders of the shallows and the deep…

But…I get Attenborough Moments a-plenty in Hobart, on the slopes of Mt Wellington, every week.  There are at least eight quolls, for example, living in Katy and Jeff’s garden.  I can say at least because they have seen eight in one picturesque Attenborough Moment, scampering around on the grass happily discovering the chicken bones Jeff had laid out in a sort of obstacle course for them last Saturday, when Angus, Hamish and Leo were lying in a hide at the top of the monkey bars, ready to do some quollspotting. 

They are rare and beautiful creatures, with long fluffy tails and lovely thick fur (black or beige) dotted with big white spots.  And VERY sharp little teeth…they are savage predators, and the poor chooks have had their unfair share of hideous death-by-quoll.

Every evening they come right up to the floor-length windows on the deck, looking for stray sultanas, so we have the opportunity to watch them until it gets too dark.  They are very speedy and dart about, occasionally standing up like meerkats to sniff the air.  There must be a whole lot of siblings, teenagers, I reckon, but they never play together.  They seem to be aware of one another but they just look, sniff, and run.  We are so lucky to be able to sit on our comfy beanbags with these rare little creatures just inches away…

India #34

We usually travelled in second class on the trains, but on this one occasion we went first class.  Nowhere near as nice! 

The trouble with airconditioning – whinge whinge – is that it is COLD.  Outside it is moist or dry and between 32-38, ie HOT.  But in the sheltered walls of an airconditioned carriage it is COLD and you have to beg for an extra blanket from the blanket wallahs.  Ridiculous.  Pete and I were in the bunks near the window, for once.  This is actually much nicer; not so much proximity to everyone else.  Just across from us was a man who slept ALL the way.  Day and night!  Everyone else in the carriage seemed to have the same idea; they snugged up on their bunks, closed their curtains, and zizzed.  In non-aircon class there are no curtains so people can’t do this… Anyway, this man didn’t just zizz, he snored.  Louder and louder.  Pete sat impassively, reading his book, then he raised his fingers to his lips and gave one of his piercing farmer whistles.  Silence.  Muttering.  Stumbling.  Out came a very bleary and startled man.  He had no idea WHAT had woken him from his gentle slumber… He tottered about the carriage a bit then went back to his bedclothes, where he started snoring even more loudly.  We gave up!

Our part of the train was cold and shrouded, with all of the curtains closed and mysterious snuffling and non-mysterious snorings.  Not at all like our other trips, full of liveliness and chat.  I went for a walk up to the other end of the train to see what was up.  Well it was all go! People playing cards, laughing, eating, chatting, smiling.  Much more like it!