Early rise and driven to the aeroporto, thank you Bailetteri x
Off on a fun, small, propeller plane to Port Lincoln. Only about 10 passengers on board.
Talked Dry July and pubs and drinking with my taxi driver into town.
Checked into our motel which stood just behind the seashore. Then followed a walking path around a headland soothed by the most tranquil, glassy water. Passed a teenage boy on his way home from footy who very sweetly and awkwardly said hello to me – in a purely neighbourly, polite and friendly way – so cute. And so perfectly awkward.
Show that night with a meet and greet after. Drank water while the others had glasses of wine and beers. Discovered that there are apparently more millionaires per capita in Port Lincoln than anywhere else in the world, but didn’t nab me a husband.
Walked home with Den and Ryan. Dennis told stories of his bad boy Telecom days working in the town, Ryan resisted the lure of a group of girls dancing in the front room of a fairly empty pub knocking on the window telling him to join them inside, I pretended to yell out my room number to passing cars.
Oh, and I’m pretty sure I saw someone in blackface.