I hate apologies. Especially for the truth.
Whatever you did, don't apologize.
Just don't do it again.
— Big Daddy.
I passed on the recent Sydney Theatre Company production and am regretting it now I've seen this classic Richard Brooks take on Tennessee Williams's archetypal Southern Gothic. It's been on the pile for ages, and seeing Paul Newman again reminded me to dig it up. So many things I've seen now seem like footnotes. There are some very funny lines, and I enjoyed a Liz Taylor performance for maybe the first time ever: so bitchy! — and of course she's the cat. Newman is on the slow burn. Burl Ives is a bit too self-aware for so much to be revealed to him so late in the day.
Bosley Crowther at the time.
Took a mental health day down in the Royal National Park. The ride down was slow but pleasant; I guess the traffic was fairly light. The day was as pleasant as the BOM forecast: 20 plus degrees and a light not-too-cold wind. Had a coffee at the tourist centre at Audley on the way to Wattamolla. While I was there a Kookaburra stole a lady’s bacon right off her plate. The Cockatoos were very friendly too. Quite a few swamp hens.
After that I headed to Wattamolla to find that they're finally making good on their promise to refurbish the pathway down to the beach, and the sweet sounds of wealth creation followed me on the long walk from the bottom car park to the repaired stairs at the south-eastern corner of the sand, near the outflow from the lagoon. They've removed the pontoon. A waterfall was going strong. Cool in but not too bad. Warm to hot in the sun. A few people about. Bluebottles on the high tide line. Epically flat.
Afterwards I rode down to Stanwell Park/Coal Cliff and walked across the Sea Cliff Bridge. I'm still wondering how much of the old road still exists. The ride back to Randwick on the motorway took ages. Bought some groceries at East Village on the way past.