The T-Team With Mr B (2)

Mr. B poked his head through the window. ‘What? You’re not going to take any photos, David?’
‘No, my camera’s not working,’ Dad replied.

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After catching the sun’s rays spreading over the mountains, we ate our muesli breakfast admiring the view…until the others in our party made an appearance.
Let’s just say that for some members, the novelty of early starts had worn off.



I clutched my stomach. ‘Dad, I’m hungry.’
‘Later,’ he promised.
However, later produced no food. My famished state evolved into near starvation.
‘Dad!’ I moaned. ‘I’m hungry!’
‘Not just yet.’ Dad hurried up the main road.
Shuffling behind him, I muttered, ‘If you won’t, I’ll get it myself.’

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Disrupt Sleep

The wind worked its gusty fingers under the stiff plastic and lifted it into the air. I caught the sheet and held it down. Cold blasts froze my fingers. The wind flapped the end bits making my toes turn to ice.

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We hiked through Serpentine Gorge, making good time aided by a receding water-line and an eager anticipation to catch the gap at midday when the sun would shine on both walls casting a red glow on the rocks.

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Monday Muse: Story Behind the Painting

We tramped through soft sand. Like sands through the hour glass so the minutes sifted away and our campsite continued to elude us. Sand filled my boots. I sat on the root of a river gum, pulled off my boots and poured out the sand.
MB stood over me. ‘Hurry up! We’ll never get there.’
‘Sure we haven’t gone the wrong way?’ I pulled on my boots. My feet ached.
‘No, I don’t think so.’

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