I went for a big walk last night. I was determined to walk for two hours. I went up the hill in front of our place, and down through a pathway I had seen but never used. Over Roslyn Ave and down Powell St to the clifftop. Saw the old open-topper bus in a paddock. Some little backwoods weatherboard and clapboard houses. Not many trophy homes around here. Paddocks. There was a gate in the fence across the top of the cliff, inviting you to plummet to destruction. I walked around the cliffs and along Blackmans Bay beach, then up through the residential streets to Roslyn Ave again, along the start of Tinderbox Road.
I went up to have a look at Sherburd Park, my home ground when I came to Kingborough Soccer Club after five or six years playing at University. Sherburd was the scene of my only hat trick, about 10 years ago. I played almost all my life as a fullback, so that was a pretty memorable day. The club shouted me a jug of beer.
I wandered out again along Tinderbox Rd for a bit, but it was dark, narrow and pretty dull walking. I headed down Wells Parade towards the beach, the better lit streets and home. I was listening to the cricket as I went, a thrilling run chase as Australia tried to overhaul New Zealand. I was close to home after only an hour and a half, and with plenty of cricket still to go, so I walked past our place, along Kingston Beach to Browns River.
As I went I was wondering about an orange glow on the horizon - I couldn't think of any large towns over the hills in that direction. I turned my attention elsewhere then looked back to see it was the moon rising. When you have an immovable thing to compare it to (like the horizon) you can appreciate how fast it moves. I turned around and strolled home, thinking about living on a large ball that is spinning in space.