The pub, shop, and toilets

The campsite is less than twenty minutes walk from the jetty where the commercial centre is thronged with locals and visitors alike. There are not a few visits to the toilet - the dunny at the campsite being a bit too rustic and fly infested for most of us. (Composting toilets really *do* need sawdust or ashes to sprinkle).

People sleep in as late as the rising generator of their tents allow. And then sit around drinking, swim in the bay, or doze in the sun.

At the back of seven, we head to the pub for tea. There’s lasagna of various descriptions and not much else. Plenty of beer, wine, and other beverages are consumed. Some of the musicians from last night knock out session music in between drink and smoke breaks.

By 10 Kerry and I are fading. We head off, but the rest of our cohort gird themselves for a long night. I wake up at 3am to shots off “one more tune” wafting across the bay. Then, some folk rekindle the fire and continue their revels just outside our tent until the sun is well risen.