Uki

A last breakfast with Tim and Angela before Norma and I flew back to Sydney: soufflés from eggs from their own girls, Roast, Kebab, Meringue and Curry. Pavlova turned out to be Pavlov, and was exiled.


They have a fantastic view of Wollumbin

from the verandah

pride and joy, a bat orchid

the odd visitor

and the most luscious, fragrant, mouthwateringly complex and subtle-tasting mangoes you can imagine, in plenty.

And they still have Tim’s old Teddy, a little the worse for wear, especially in the rotator-cuff area.

About Tricia Rose

Not distracted by shiny objects.
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