postcard from the goldie
Jack of this – had enough of rain and onshore wind.
I Want to wake up in an ocean front room in that big posh pub on the Goldie Spit with the early morning sun streaming onto the satin sheets – I want to push aside that languorous and questing hand with the crimson nails that would delay me and say ‘ not now Elle baby, there’s a peak out there with me name written all over it. ‘
Then I want to have one of those blokes in a white top waiting by the water’s edge with a nice creamy latte when I come in after a couple hours of rip and tear , after that I want a breakfast of black sausage and anything ~ then I’ll get back to Elle maybe, depends on the tide.