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Centipedes and slugs in Sydney

I’ll skip the introductions today. If you don’t know me by now, you will never never…. Oo-oo-oo, I almost got trapped in some song lyrics there. Anyway, read my other blog posts or my About Me page if you’re curious about me. And who wouldn’t be?

Today’s travel notes

The Travelling Companion has been playing around in the garden recently, digging and uprooting and planting and generally getting muddy. I have observed her antics from the sidelines, stepping in to suggest the occasional photograph.

It’s struck me just how beautiful we worms are, and our lesser brethren too. So I’ve decided to treat you to some photographs and a movie of us.

Traveller’s tip

If you can’t travel far to find some beauty, try digging around in the dirt instead.

The book I’m in

Troy, Fall of Kings, by David & Stella Gemmell.

Yes, I am still in the same book as last week. The TC has been quite busy, so she has not done much reading. This is a good thing, because it’s a comfortable book.

The photos

Me and Peg in the garden with Dianella.

Centipedes and slugs in Sydney

A centipede on a stone tile. This brave brother worm ventured into the Travelling Companion’s kitchen. He is just a common-or-garden centipede, perhaps a couple of centimetres long.

Centipedes and slugs in Sydney

The next dude (below) is awe-inspiring. He is a blue centipede, dubbed Scolopendra by some. This one is about 5 centimetres long. Beware, not all worms are as friendly as me. Centipedes are predators, and they can bite humans too. He was safely hidden in the soil amongst the roots of some Agapanthus plants, until he was so rudely uprooted. Here is a good view of his back end at bottom left, with his head disappearing into a hole at top right:

Centipedes and slugs in Sydney

He moves fast, this dude, and the TC had trouble getting a good shot. Below is her attempt to capture his head. You can just make out the lighter blue head and the two darker blue antennae at bottom right of this picture:

Centipedes and slugs in Sydney

And here’s a video. Alas, the TC did not excel in the making of this movie, but it’s a good laugh as well as giving you some idea of the beauty of the worm. The TC says she didn’t know the video was on, and she was trying to take a still photo. Hah!

Here’s sister slug, aka a tiger slug, a spotted leopard slug and a great grey slug. So many names for such an unassuming creature. I’m making her an honorary worm for this blog post:

Centipedes and slugs in Sydney

That’s all for today, dudes.
By the light of a gibbous moon

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

Spring has arrived in Sydney. Joy. The birds are awake at 5 a.m. And so is the TC.

Traveller’s tip

Beware of those you meet on your journey.

The book I’m in

Dakota, by Martha Grimes.

This atmosphere-laden book is all about a journey. It’s a good thing I don’t have feet, because the itch would be driving me potty.

The photos

A moody Sydney September moon:

It’s time to catch up with the brood. Drool and Hand have hit it off in a big way, sunny personalities both. Here they are in Drool’s lair.

I spied them there in the darkest hours of the night, scheming and plotting. I distinctly heard Hand say:

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but somehow Wordsworm gives me the creeps.

Is trouble brewing amongst the brood? This worm will keep you informed of all eventualities.

That’s all for today, dudes.
Dikes in Holland

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

The Travelling Companion has been rather sedentary recently, so I’ve been crawling through her photo albums again. I came across some pictures of Holland and some scraps of a letter that she wrote about her encounters with dikes.

This letter is twenty years old, written in April 1988. I thought you would enjoy a bit of ancient history 🙂

We drove along a very impressive dike, which separates the Markermeer from the IJsselmeer. The dike is 29 km long. It is quite lovely to see the open water on each side of the road, with yachts and water-birds dotted all over. A large area east of the Markermeer is reclaimed land, called a polder. There was a plan to reclaim the entire Markermeer, so the dike was built to allow the land to be drained. But evidently they have decided not to do that just yet. One reason why they need more land is that the airport Schiphol is too busy. So they planned to build another one where the water is at present.

North-west of Amsterdam is another polder, eight metres below sea level. There is a canal connecting Amsterdam to the North Sea, and the water in the canal is at sea level. So the canal is well above the level of the roads! It is a very odd experience to see a ship sailing by above you.

A tall tale

Many people have heard the uplifting story of brave little Hans, a Dutch boy who saved his country by sticking his thumb in hole in a dike, to plug an incipient leak. It’s a ridiculous story, really, when you see the size of the dikes.

When the TC was in the Netherlands, she mentioned the tale to a Dutch friend, fully expecting him to acknowledge it as a piece of native folklore. He looked faintly amused and said that he had heard the story but thought it was probably English or American, because no Nederlander would come up with something so silly.

Traveller’s tip

Don’t believe everything they tell you.

The book I’m in

RESTful Web Services, by Leonard Richardson & Sam Ruby.

Technically tranquil.

The photos

Climbing up a dike, somewhere in the Netherlands:

Dikes in Holland

Due to a lamentable lack of labelling (notice the skilful alliteration) I can’t tell you exactly where the TC was when she snapped these shots, except that she was in Holland and on a dike.

To be precise, I can’t even be certain that she was in Holland itself. This may be one of the other provinces of the Netherlands, such as Zeeland.

The view from the top of the dike:

Dikes in Holland

If anyone recognises the dike, or the storm surge barriers in the distance, let me know.

That’s all for today, dudes.
Red-flowered tree in Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt. Keep an eye out for the witty but subtle use of puns.

Today’s travel notes

Me, Peg and Hand went for a bit of a stroll today. You’ll remember Hand. We met in Surfer’s Paradise, and he has been one of the Travelling Companion’s companions ever since. I wrote about it here.

Getting back to our stroll. Along the way, we stopped to hang out with Blue. And now I’d like to enlist your help.

Blue is a tall, wide-spreading tree. There are a number like him, in and around Sydney. At this time of year he becomes encrusted with showy red flowers. That’s why I call him “Blue” — because of the red flowers. (Australians have an obscurely endearing habit of calling people with red hair “Blue”. I think it’s their attempt for world recognition in the eccentricity category. Or something.)

How can you help? By telling me what sort of tree Blue is. I’ve searched diligently through the TC’s books but have not been able to pin down Blue’s family. Please take a look at the pictures below.

Traveller’s tip

Trees don’t travel much, but they are good company.

The book I’m in

Poltergeist, by Kat Richardson.

The photos

Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue:

Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue

Hand seeks out the darker corners where fleshy greyish-pink weirdos congregate. As you might have gathered, I’m not much of a botanist and don’t know what these plants are called either:

Hand skulking around in the undergrowth

Zooming out to show a bit more of Blue’s red floral showiness. This outburst happens in late July and early August.

Can you identify this red-flowered tree?

The whole tree:

Can you identify this red-flowered tree?

Hand got a bit out of hand, so I had to tether him at the base of Blue’s trunk. He felt quite at home, because some equally unsalubrious characters had been there before us.

Hand lurking amongst the litter
Sydney winter flora seen from down under

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

I’ve been spending some time with flora and Peg recently. You’ll notice me, Peg and flora in the photographs below.

Have you ever been to Cape Town in South Africa? There’s some similarity between the Sydney vegetation and the Cape fynbos. Both specialise in low-key, low-down beauty. It can be hard to find, especially if you’re not a worm. But once you’ve moved past the drabness and started looking at the detail, there are some fairly pretty things to see.

This blog post is about Sydney. I’ll dig up some of the TC’s photographs of the Cape fynbos and write about it soon too. I promise. I know you’ll be eagerly awaiting my next post.

A worm’s eye view is also interesting from another perspective. Often, I get to see the bits that the plants are least proud of.

Traveller’s tip

Don’t ever let yourself be photographed from below. It’s a very unflattering angle.

The book I’m in

Dead Famous, by Ben Elton.

A tip for my fans: Look out for my appearance on the next hip, bigged-up and mad-for-it reality TV show. I’ve had so many requests you’d hardly, like, believe and hey I’ll make my choice soon. One survivor, that’ll be me. I’m, like, dead sure of that.

The photos

Me and Peg hanging out under a rocky overhang with flora:

Sydney winter flora

♥ As a special treat for you the faithful reader, the rest of the photographs are taken from the bottom looking up. That’s my usual perspective on life. It’s what keeps me so humble. ♥

The least flattering end of a bee:

Sydney winter flora

Another bee derriere:

Sydney winter flora

The underside of Old Man Banksia:

Another banksia I do believe, but there’s the faint possibility that I may be wrong:

Sydney winter flora

Some cone clones:

Sydney winter flora

A spray of grass:

Sydney winter flora

It’s difficult to make a flower look bad, even from the bottom looking up:

Sydney winter flora

Another distressingly pretty flower seen from down under:

Sydney winter flora

And here’s the last bottoms-up flower:

Sydney winter flora

Oh dear…

Sydney winter flora seen from down under

That’s all for today dudes.
Apartheid on the beaches

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

I keep saying:

I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

So here we go, a “meaningful” post at last.

I’ve been spending some time in the TC’s scrapbook

Me in the Travelling Companion’s scrapbook:

Please excuse the quality of the next couple of images. The TC is not a great photographer at the best of times. These pictures are scanned in from a photo she took in 1979, using who knows what cheap non-digital apparatus.

The scrapbook entry shows a signpost on the beach at Simons Town, near Cape Town in South Africa. The year is 1979.

Looking closer:

Here’s what it says:

SIMONSTOWN MUNICIPALITY NOTICE

WHITES ONLY BEACHES

MUNISIPALITEIT SIMONSTAD KENNISGEWING

NET BLANKES STRANDE

There may be a few readers who can’t even imagine what that means. You might have an inkling, but doubt that it can possibly be true. The sad fact is, the signpost does mean this: Only white people were allowed on the beach.

“White people” — what does that mean? It means someone who has been classified as white. Short and simple. But not easy.

If asked, the TC will narrate in great detail how weird it was growing up as a child in apartheid-governed South Africa. At first, of course, you accept that there are separate buses, separate trains, even separate benches in the park. Every child learns the environment as it is presented to her. But then you start wondering, seeing the absurdities and questioning the sanity of all around you.

That might be when the TC started taking photos like the one above.
Goulburn
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

We passed through Goulburn last weekend. Goulburn is a city (it has a couple of cathedrals) in New South Wales, Australia. It’s kind of a detour between Sydney and Canberra. At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of it.

My impressions? “Oh no, what am I doing here?” closely followed by “Ah yes, that was good”.

First we went to the outskirts of the town (yes, I do know it’s a city but it’s rather small) to find Drool. He’s our latest acquisition — a rather fetching gargoyle. There’s a photograph somewhere below. He hales from the Menduni Garden Artistry centre, 26-28 Gulson Street, Goulburn. I’d recommend a visit if you’re in the area. You’re greeted with big smiles, strong local accents and lots of variety, from devilish gargoyles to lightly-swaying giant emus and everything between.

Then we hit Goulburn in search of lunch. We found that and a lot of impressive architecture too.

Traveller’s tip

A warm worm is a happy worm.

Recommended restaurant

The Roses Cafe, 10 Montague Street, Goulburn, NSW.

Great pies and cheese pastries, fresh tasty salads, superb florentines with lots of nuts and stodge and a good layer of chocolate. Faultless service.

The book I’m in

I have just emerged from Falls the Shadow, by William Lashner. Alas, the TC (she with whom I travel) yanked me out when I was only half way through the book. I’m guessing she grew tired of it. I couldn’t help noticing this bit before I left, because I found it strangely apposite. It’s something said to the lawyer who is the anti-hero of the book, with his reply:

“You’re an insignificant worm.”
“Yes I am,” I said cheerfully, “on a useless piece of rock hurtling through a universe devoid of rhyme or reason.”

I suspect that Goulburnians might often hear the phrase “an insignificant town in the middle of nowhere”, or words to that effect. Goulburnians could reply with something like the lawyer’s response above.

Or maybe, like me, they would reply:

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant when you’re as good-looking as me.”

The photos

Me at the fountain in Belmore Park, Goulburn:

Me at the glasshouse in Belmore Park:

St Peter’s and St Paul’s Catholic cathedral (it’s just one building, probably named by someone in dire need of saintly appeasement):

St Saviour’s Anglican cathedral:

The Big Merino, one of Australia’s famous “big things”. They say you can go inside to buy souvenirs and to see the world through the ram’s eye at the top. I didn’t do that. This dude is more than 15 metres tall and weighs 97 tonnes:

The Goulburn Club, established 1877:

The inviting open door of the Goulburn Club:

The Roses Cafe has a narrow shop front, but is long and spacious inside, modern in hues of pink and purple:

A row of buildings in downtown Goulburn:

Get closer to me baby:

Technical College AD 1900, now the Goulburn Regional Conservatorium. If you peer inside, you’ll see lovely old wooden doors and staircase:

Drool the gargoyle:

A worm’s eye view

This section is for me to put things that are not necessarily relevant but meant something to this worm at the time. Here’s a shot of the dawn before we set out on the trip:

Other travelogues of note

These travellers have been to Goulburn too:
- Elke went back to visit family.
- Jamie went through on the way to Canberra.
- Jon & Jules were impressed by the big merino.
- Marillionkm gives lots of details.
- Darryl writes about the drought.
First past the post

There are no wordpress.com blogs tagged “Goulburn”. This worm will be the first!

That’s all for today dudes.
Surfers Paradise
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

I’ve spent the last few days in Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast. That’s in Queensland, Australia, dudes. I spent most of my time tucked away with a book, because the Travelling Companion was working. Still, we did get out and about. The TC is depressingly awake at ungodly hours of the morning.

My impressions? Laid-back luxury.

Surfers Paradise is treacly-beautiful. Chocolate-box stuff. And never mind “Surfer’s Paradise”, it’s definitely a shopper’s paradise.

Did we come away with the mandatory souvenir? Oh yes. Though I have to concede here that we avoided the usual bit of arty attire. Instead, we acquired “Dracula’s Crawling it’s alive! Hand”. It’s noise-activated and comes with an SM-type leash. This souvenir I approve of. It suits the TC to a T.

The Gold Coast is about 45 minutes’ flight from Sydney. We flew Virgin Blue — highly recommended. Straight up, a bit of a swoop around some thundery cloud-peaks, then back down for a fast landing. Do it at sunset for maximum view-value, if you’re into that kind of thing.

Once you’re in the Gold Coast, there are only two things you need to know: “Beach Side” and “Dry Side”. Once you understand that these are the two sides of the Gold Coast Highway, you can get anywhere any time.

We didn’t do the big xxx-world attractions. We did do the “Haunted House”. Clever disorientation techniques, mirrors, uneven flooring and sticky dangling face-stroking bits in the dark had the desired effect on the TC. I was safely tucked inside a book in a bag, but I felt the tremors and heard the hesitant giggles. This is where we found Hand.

Travel tip

A peg comes in handy when you’re travelling. Use it to seal your bag of coffee. Or just to hang out with. Like I’m doing in the photos.

Recommended restaurant

The Tandoori Place, 30 Laycock Street, Surfers Paradise. (Web site.)

Delicious food and winning service.

The book I’m in

Sleep, Pale Sister, by Joanne Harris.

The photos

Me walking on the wild side (Jonathon Livingstone S was a bit close for comfort):

$Me with Jonathan\'s footprints$

Me hanging out with some fishermen, an ibis, Jonathan and Peg:

Me and Peg on Neptune’s chair:

$Me and Peg on Neptune\'s chair$

Pre-dawn, and nobody is awake but me, the TC and an ibis:

Surfers Paradise (that’s what it says):

Dawn over Surfers Paradise:

The main drag in Surfers Paradise, with Neptune’s chair:

Just some of the shops:

Hand — his complete handle is “Dracula’s Crawling it’s alive! Hand”:

$Dracula\'s hand$

Haunted House (Hand’s erstwhile home):

Q1, the tallest residential building in the world — that’s its claim:

A worm’s eye view

Dawn on the beach:

Write your letters in the sand — a wave washing over a footprint:

Other travelogues of note
- Kamil‘s travel photography blog. Aaaasome, he’s been kite-surfing.
- Jessicaca found herself in Surfers Paradise during Schoolies week, and left. Oh dear oh dear, you poor thing.
- Shah thinks Surfers Paradise is Australia’s version of Miami. I’ve got news for you: Miami is but a pale imitation 😉
- Austin has some golden-hued photos to complement my silvery snaps.
That’s all for today dudes.
Kangaroo Valley, Berry and Kiama

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

Yesterday I took a round trip down Australia’s east coast. We started off just north of Sydney and drove through the city, past Wollongong to Kiama, Berry and Kangaroo Valley, then through Mittagong back to Sydney.

My impressions? Just out of Sydney yet so very different.

It’s an easy day’s drive. You’re never more than two hours away from the city, but of course there are lots of unavoidable scenic views, lunch opportunities and shopping stops. These tend to slow you down, so do take them into account. In my experience, your round-trip velocity depends largely upon your companions. My Travelling Companion is a bit of a liability in this respect.

The previous paragraph notwithstanding, I did enjoy the views. There are some good photos below, including some of me suspended in the usual fashion over some breathtaking drop. There was also a bit of wildlife, including those big furry grasshoppers*, your common-or-garden sulphur-crested cockatoos, the wilder black cockatoos, a coupla kookaburras, plus galahs, ravens and butcher birds.

Also along the side of the road was the occasional self-service kiosk, where you can take fudge or potatoes or whatever and leave the money in return. Honesty rocks!

* “Furry grasshoppers” — That’s what we locals call the kangaroos 🙂

A word of explanation: worm or caterpillar?

Some of my readers may be concerned about the difference between a worm and a caterpillar, and in particular you may be wondering which one I am.

In my experience, caterpillars are ephemeral and fickle creatures, apt to take flight when things get tricky. Your humble worm is here to stay.

Travel tip

Never underestimate the return trip.

Recommended restaurant

Berrylicious cafe, 89 Queen Street, Berry.

Excellent hamburgers, a variety of breads and some good options for vegetarians.

The book I’m in

The Radiant Seas, by Catherine Asaro.

The photos

Me suspended over the drop at Bulli Lookout, with Wollongong in the distance. Here’s a tip — if you’re coming from Sydney down the Princes Highway (route 1) towards Wollongong, ignore the first turnoff labelled “Bulli Lookout”. It takes you to a private hotel and an inferior lookout point. Instead, drive past the hotel or take the second turnoff to Bulli Lookout. Anyway, here’s me and the view:

Me waiting for the blowhole to blow at Kiama:

FYI, here’s a “duh” moment — a sign next to the blowhole says something like this:

“Danger. Do not go beyond this point. Deep hole and blowhole.”

Me not getting wet:

Me at the drive-through bottle store in Berry. Check out the hubcaps on the wall:

Kiama Post Office:

Kiama outcrop behind the blowhole, and the blue blue sea:

In the hills approaching the town of Kangaroo Valley:

More of those hills (do you see what I mean about the TC being a bit of a liability with respect to stopping for photographs of anything that moves or doesn’t move):

Hampden Bridge, outside the town of Kangaroo Valley:

A worm’s eye view

You’ll see some pictures taken from a worm’s viewpoint in my earlier blog posts too. Now I’ve decided to put this sort of picture in a special section.

Kiama rock looks volcanic, with lots of small cosy holes:

Autumn leaves in Berry:

Brother caterpillar tripping the light fantastic (on plastic sheeting in Berrylicious Cafe):

Hair lichen on a post near Kangaroo valley:

That’s it for today dudes.
Manly

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, viz 95 HBM 80-1. Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while my TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

Today I’ve been in Manly, haunt of surfers and rollerbladers on the east coast of Australia just north of Sydney.

My impressions? Ramshackle charm plus lots of action.

It’s all happening in Manly. Rollerblading, skate boarding, surfing, diving, snorkelling, street markets, skid row sidling up to millionaire’s lane.

The ride on the Manly Ferry is one of the most beautiful in the world. The boat takes half an hour to wend its way from Manly Wharf to the city, passing close by the Sydney Opera House and the coat hanger. (That’s what the locals call the Sydney Harbour Bridge.)

A good place to snorkel is Shelly Beach, at the southern end of Manly Beach. Shelly Beach faces west, at an angle to the main beach and sheltered from the waves rolling in from the ocean. Take just a couple of paces into the water, and you’ll find Nemo. Scuba divers bubble way down below. My Travelling Companion gets distressingly enthusiastic about close encounters with gropers. Settle down, a groper is a fish.

Rollerbladers abound. There’s a good path running along the beachfront. For a longer run, set off in Manly Vale at Addiscombe Road, follow the cycle path down Kenneth and Pittwater Roads to Manly Lagoon, through Manly Lagoon park to the sea, then all along the beach to Shelly. This is about 4 kilometres of easy skating. If you’d like a hill or two, there are two good slopes in Manly Vale. There’s a skate park across the way from Manly Lagoon park. My intrepid Travelling Companion has crawled the lower slopes but never really dropped in.

A word from a wise worm

Bladers beware: surfboards are a hazard. This could happen to you: You’re in the zone, skating along with the sea by your side, the wind whistling past your ears, the cockatoos screeching overhead and the picturesque surfer-dudes posed next to the path assessing the waves. Surfer-dude turns to greet mate on other side of path. Surfboard swings over path. Rollerblader hits ground.

Travel tip

Dare to be different — like the flower in the photo down below.

Recommended restaurant

Ironbark wood fired Italian restaurant. 208 Pittwater Road, Manly. www.ironbarkmanly.com.au

They have gluten-free pizzas. This worm didn’t know such things were possible. I guess there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy.

A fan

A humble worm says thank you to STA travelbuzz for reviewing my site.

The book I’m in

Stern Men, by Elizabeth Gilbert.

The photos

Me and the Manly Ferry:

Me looking for a cosy hole on Manly Wharf:

Smooth empty tarmac, blading heaven. The path along Manly Lagoon:

Manly Beach seen as you emerge from Manly Lagoon Park:

Blading from Manly Vale to Manly:

Blader in Manly:

Looking across Manly Beach to Shelly Beach at top left:

Manly Corso:

A seagull on Manly Corso. (Beware all worms!):

Surfer dudes doing it the hard way:

A white azalea flower daring to be different: