RIDING A GYPSY TAILWIND- from where the suns upside down…from Worzel

Well, it’s no thing of beauty but sturdy I think. Godfrey found an old push-bike, painted a sensitive shade of pale pink.

The seat was designed for a narrow behind, the name CHERYL crudely etched on the frame. One tire worn thin and bald, the other bent wheel had no tire at all but he gave it a thoughtful spin. I will restore CHERYL Godfrey proclaimed, we shall ride on the gypsy tailwind!

And ride he did after minor repair on the grass of somebodies lawn, off and away pedaled Godfrey, in the cool New South Wales summer dawn.He saw wonderful places like misty Katoomba , a singing dog festival, he picked grapes down Mildura way, Godfrey ate wild honey warm from a jar, and put his bike on a train across the Nullabar. He pedaled through coastal and valley towns, spent his birthday at the Old Ladies Home in Deloraine, still the gypsy tailwind called out to Godfrey, and carried him on ward again.

Dear Beatrice,he wrote, Here I am sitting looking at the Blue Mountains mist, the cicadas so Loud in the tall eucalyptus, wish you could see the amazing night skies I sleep under. Stars so bright they reflect in the still of the lake. I”m gorging my self on Pikelets and Lamington Cakes. I have also discovered the Neenish Tart with ice-cream, here I sit writing, letting my good shorts out at the side-seam…Love Godfrey.

Spent New Years Day a Woolgathering, on my battered bike CHERYL, she is pink but where the rust is showing through, today we pedaled to a  river wide, seeking a swimming hole I could dream the day away beside. I had with me a bag of plums, I had the water and the sun, I had a good book to read, spent New Years Day a Woolgathering, with everything I’d need.

Must be more cautious, the burger I bought was a large , juicy thing, with coleslaw, an egg and a pineapple ring, there it was, just as I sat down to eat, in the shade, there it was hidden under the lettuce, oh HORRORS A SLICE OF BEET, apparently quite common down here. But over beets I will not lose sleep I feel that I am now a true vagabond, and until I write again, dear friend, I shall ride on the gypsy tailwind, Goodbye Tonight From Godfrey..

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