Strike a pose. I am waiting for R to suggest we use his Senior Citizen rail pass to visit the Begonia Festival in Ballarat. I shall say no, as the train will be full of fun loving and happy old women out for adventure and I will feel sad that my mother is not one of them. Besides, the women will think that because we are gay, we will be great fun. It ain't necessarily so, although apparently when we were in Paris, we were. 'You two looked liked you would be fun when you boarded the bus', one remarked. She must have noted we looked hungover. Beautiful French wine as we lunched and cruised down the Seine and chumming up with an American and Scottish pair of lasses may well have made us good company. God how we laughed, as the sights of Paris passed by almost unnoticed. I think I saw Notre Dame and a pair of lovers canoodling on the Left Bank. It was hard work later climbing the Eiffel Tower....oh, we caught the lift. Actually, the worst was English customs later at Gare du Nord.
Blue Mountains. What was I holding in my hand? It must be my skinny medication. I loved that shirt. I doubt I could button it now over my bosooms. I don't miss the homosexual moustache. #Harry Highpants
Milton Street, Elwood, my hands demonstrating the length of who knows what? #Harry Highpants.