The country was restful. Inspiring. Beautiful. It rained. We went for long walks in big jumpers. Not much time left to be able to spin around 360 degrees in a circle and only see trees as far as I can see.

Any minute the property will be up for sale. Boo hoo. Then Mark and Luke move up north.

I love the art work scattered across the property. It’s really cool. We were really lucky that an artist friend started the tradition, as a place for him to put his works, sure.

A bunch of old friends came up and stayed. The first of a long line of people coming to say good bye. We smoked a million joints. Ate great food. Drank the bar dry.

I think our long term next door neighbour succumbed to lung cancer. What a character.

The little bitch (one half of the male gay couple) complained that I drank their wine. Apparently, at some stage. Mark and Luke told me after they had gone. Me? Drink his wine? I drank pinot all night. Where did that come from... Um, his boyfriend had a nice bulge in his pants, which, I think may have contributed to the wine-stealing comment, indirectly, as me and the boyfriend were being quite flirty all night. Cute smile, I-want-you-eyes. Murray. You know, I've never known a bad Murray.

Sure, I might have wanted to have borrowed him for a short time, hose him down and send him back, but, essentially, I'm not really interested in some guy who has as much baggage as a boy friend, not matter how keen he may have seemed.

As I came home over the Sunbury hill, it was midnight and the desolate road stretched out in front of me, while the lights of Melbourne pulsated gold, a sea of sparkles stretching across the horizon like neon-lace.