Up betimes, bit later today, but, unlike that Pepys character, couldn't say "did ravish ye maid".
Not a maid to be seen in cloudy Minjup today.
Maidless and as god-forsaken as god ever forsook.
Promise of a bit more rain though -- which is always a good thing after a parched summer.
Highlight of the morning on Sundays is two bauxite trains going past about 5:30 and the odd (incidentally non-native) Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) hooting at them.
And, of course, no newspaper.
There is something called the Sunday Times, a Murdoch rag, but no relation to any other Times in the known world and not fit to light the wood stove with.
Worse even than the daily West Australian.
Last I looked, the ST still had crosswords by "LB", despite the fact that he's been dead for years and, judging by his clues, was moribund or pissed most of the time anyway.
More ANZAC stuff on the radio this morning -- it's still the putatively long weekend after all -- "giving our sons in the name of freedom" and similar crap.
Still unsure how losing to the Turks was in the name of Australian freedom.
(At least when the septics invade somewhere obscure that's no threat -- like Grenada, for heaven's sake -- they win.)
The "sons given in the name of freedom" they tend not to mention are the poor Aussie buggers left to the mercy of the Japs when Churchill abandoned Singapore.

More later on the sins of bad cryptic clue writing, the futility of war and ... possibly ... why not to visit Fremantle under any circumstances.

Sledge