Monday Night in Mossman

(All typos are Coopers fault)
For some reason random, just indecipherable lyrics, but unmistakably Paul Kelly, are wandering through my brain. Accompanied by two or three signature ‘PK’ riffs. You know, ‘every fucking city’ & ‘walkin out my door’ & ‘dumb things’ & a hundred others.
The atmosphere here, right where I’m sitting, is thick with the spirits of single blokes through past generations who’ve camped here. Back when cane supported the town & tourism was generations away.

It’s nearly midnight, & I’m sitting on the verandah of a grand old classic Queensland ‘Hotel’ . You can’t call these places ‘Pubs’ without respecting their origins first.
It has come to pass, that I am in Mossman this evening. A number of folk from Wujal Wujal needed to come to a funeral here. So I brought them down the inland road. There has been far too much rain on the coast road. Which means, instead of roughly 70km of  beautiful rainforest, interspersed with a scenic ferry ride across the Daintree River, we had to do over 300 kilometres. I don’t mind though. I like the inland road too.

Anyway…
It’s a grand old corner Queenslander type hotel. Big wide verandahs with multiple french doors leading into single rooms.

Many, many years ago I stayed in pubs similar to this. Goondiwindi, Barcaldine & others. They all have a special feel about them. Different spirits.

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Mossman is quiet on a Monday night. This pub closed at eight. I booked in at seven-thirty, grabbed a six-pack of Coopers Pale Ales & took them to my room with my stuff. Then I went downstairs and had stubbie & a bit of a yarn with the barmaid Sylvia, and a couple of locals. Nice people here.
So I said the pub closed at eight. I came up here to sit & watch the world.
(I also sent an email to a special soul, spoke to a friend in Rockhampton on the phone, & txtededed a friend in Yulara and FBed my daughter. Wow!)

There has been some traffic earlier, including a ‘Ten O’clock Cruise’ by the local Constabulary.
Besides that, just a kid on a pushie wearing a hoodie (00:55 13 March just in case).

The buildings all look beige under the streetlights & all I can hear is a distant yet pervading hum of air-conditioners.

It’s 1:10am & a very sad rooster has just started to crow. Every nine seconds.

It stopped raining around 9pm I think. The shine is still on the road though. It’s still wet as.

I hope the sun shines for the funeral tomorrow. The ‘old lady’ was well loved and respected all over Yalanji country and beyond.

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