Day 277 | camping at the dry Lake Miranda: and memories from another age

96 km | Heading west total: 13,102 km

When I was in Wiluna I rang my parents to say hi.

My Aunt Blanche had died at the weekend and the funeral was to be today. About 10 years ago she had some turn and went on life support and they were contemplating turning it off when she suddenly recovered. One tough gal. I quite liked her but I guess we really had very little in common. She was posh although I’m not sure where that had come from.

There’s one memory of her that springs to mind. Back in my last year at school, (I think), the family congregated in Christchurch during the August school holidays. We all headed off to Carlton Mill to Blanche’s apartment for a social occasion but, I think, also with some food.

4 easily bored teenage kids got settled around the dining table where there was a major point of entertainment. The crisp white linen tablecloth was so heavily starched that with my long legs the whole rigid (cardboard like) tablecloth popped up with my plate and cutlery sliding into the centre of the table.

The continual oscillations of the linen kept us kiddies all amused while that other conversation between the sisters continued in its own cycle.