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Walking along George Street, Bill and Geraldine were all ears. They had trained down from ‘Bungaree’ on the stock-route between Merriwa and Cassilis, finding the YHA on Cumberland Street with much difficulty even though the streets in The Rocks were lit up like midday. So much for a small footprint; what was good enough for city slickers should be good enough for the bloomin’ yokels up Cassilis way.
Gerry was agog as she trod the cobblestoned laneways. She persevered after turning her ankle in Greenway Lane trying to avoid the ruts gouged by the steel-rims of the drays. She had been keen to climb the Argyle Steps to the deck of the bridge itself.
Bill had toddled along beside her, quite taken by her enthusiasm. Now, however, it was his turn to play tour guide and he was headed to ‘The Fortune of War’, Sydney’s oldest, continuously licensed public house.
With acknowledgement to A.B. Paterson’s ‘The Man from Ironbark’
3 comments:
Great shot. I always enjoy walking down that street with the bridge looming in the distance yet looking close enough to touch.
I can't work out if Gerry and Bill are in today or the past. "footprint" "cobblestones, ruts of the drey"
The present and past are seamlessly woven here ... nice one.
And I so associate with this sentence "She persevered after turning her ankle in Greenway Lane trying to avoid the ruts gouged by the steel-rims of the drays" I'm always twisting my ankles at The Rocks.
I like that Diane, the fact that you cannot tell. Down there its the little things that get to you. And, yes, the bridge does loom, even though its approaches wiped out so much of the raw material for someone like me. Indeed, there was a street, Princes Street, that continued York Street pretty much down to Dawes Point and it went totally. And it was a Paddington-like street.
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