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And again

I thought this building was worth another shot.


  1. It is not often one sees sheets of tin like that. Is it tin or something else? It does not look easy to work.

  2. It is nothing like a I have ever seen before. It looks like tin but I somehow feel that it isn't. I wondered if it was sisalkraft but it would be a bit weird using that as external sheeting.

  3. This will sound wierd, but I wonder if it could be sheets of lead. Something is pinging in my head. From way back. Not at all sure. Something to do with those 'bubbles' ...

  4. I thought it was lead too. An interesting site.

  5. Actually that sounds like a possibility.

  6. Lead is soft to work which is why it was used as a flange for so long.


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Is that a Coolibah tree beside the abandoned house? Every Australian knows about Coolibah trees because the bush ballad Waltzing Matilda is nigh on our unoffical national anthem but most of us live nowhere near the inland where they grow. Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong, Under the shade of a Coolibah tree, And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me, And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.

The end

I retire from the workforce this week and to celebrate have decided to retire my current blogs and start afresh with a single consolidated blog -  My Bright Field  - to record the delights of my new life adventure. If you are interested follow me over there.  I will still be Sweet Wayfaring and collecting Royal Hotels.  The delights I discover along the way will appear together with my gardens and towns where I live.

But then the grey clouds gather

Mostly there was sunshine but sometimes rain. The long drought is still too close a memory for us to not welcome rain even on holiday. We are still at Shellharbour here, you can see the steelworks at Port Kembla in the distance. Musing: From The Storm by Theodore Roethke "Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell, The waves not yet high, but even, Coming closer and closer upon each other; A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea, Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot, The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending, Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness."