It is odd to me that (as previously chronicled on these pages) I have only the haziest of memories of previous time spent in Australia EXCEPT it turns out that I remember the tiniest details of the time I spent in Queensland.
I remember Noosa beach,
I remember walking along Hastings St (I even, I’m ashamed to say, remember having breakfast here wearing a blue silk bandana on my head. Why? Why?)
I remember this night club, where my sister Róisín coined the phrase ‘twenty hundred’. She was looking for a snappy comeback to some gormless English kid … but it didn’t come out exactly right.
I remember Wild Horse Mountain where we stopped on our way back to Brisbane to admire the view,
I remember all these things perfectly too, even down to tiny details (what were all the headscarves about btw?) Alma and I are fondly remembering as I type, we miss you x
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