On Black Mountain

Getting out of the car at Leura was a shock - colder than the air conditioning, which I had been tweaking as we drove inland. I ducked into a smart kitchen shop and was told it had snowed twice that day already, where are you heading? Oberon - that'll be colder.

Quite large flakes of snow dance outside but don't settle, and a flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos swoop but don't settle. All the trees bend and sway like a field of wheat. Yesterday evening we watched Bob's cows kick up their heels in a mad gallop across the paddock to the trees as if they had all decided at once it was too cold and blowy for them. We lit the fire and drank whisky, and ate delicious coral trout from the Fish Market at Darling Harbour a world away.

I bought a plastic octopus there too, because it is the most lifelike I have seen and I have been looking a long time for an octopus image to blow up and print out. Now I have the makings.

It is so cosy sitting up in bed with Norma's cashmere shawl around me and Stefan's laptop (snaffled early since he is not a morning person). I was too late to save the fire from last night so we will have to start again, but there is plenty of wood. Mary is coming up today; she had to stay at the gallery.

There is no landline or internet here in the upper house so this is in Word. We will go for a bracing walk if I can raid enough of Mary's warm clothes.