|Heads down and stop talking|
Sue spent most of the day in Nambucca Heads itself, catching a ride into the RSL club in the cramped front seat of an old ute and at least a dozen games of bingo on either side of lunch. She met Betty, who was a tad bossy but at least kept her informed of what to do and when and became most irritated when Sue forgot what she had been told. Carol came and joined them because two of Betty's besties were missing in action for the day.
She found out all about the spate of break ins that Nambucca was suffering, who was in hospital or seeing a specialist, details of each of their own personal ailments, who won't be back to take on the Presidency of the Auxiliary and like her new companions, became concerned that the bingo caller wasn't calling at the right speed. The one last week, Sue was assured, was much better. Betty did have to tap Sue's card in rebuke several times because she was still talking when the caller started.
During her lunch break, she managed to calm her excitement by taking a walk along the Nambucca River and admiring some fine examples of the Bird of Paradise flower but before she knew it, it was 12:15 (sharp) and heads down.
Sue scooped the pool, winning three games but eventually having her winnings ratified only because she could prove she had a temporary members card. For a few minutes, there was pandemonium as she searched each pocket for it.
I had the less stressful day of a plane flight to Sydney from Coffs Harbour in the morning, for an afternoon corporate presentation in the board room of a major property developer, as part of a pitch to secure half a million dollars of funding to support the further development of the Black Dog Institute's Community Presenter's program. The return flight was bumpy and cramped as a result of turbulence and the lack of a discretionary diet by my aisle-seated new best friend. It poured raining on the drive home to Nambucca.
Who says every day on the road is the same?