Am I awake? Jumbled thoughts, tumbling. Images whizzing back and forth, trailing comet-like tails. Projected black and yellowy shapes dance inside closed lids. My mind, an ever-active attic is doing a review of my recent night wanders.
An eye briefly tests the day. It’s still dark, but a sliver of moon dips towards the horizon. Misty coldness envelopes.
I stretch. Toes first, towards the bottom of the swag, dragging cramped legs, hips and spine through a deliciously reflexed assault. Again, a slightly different position works a spinal crick. I break wind, I desperately need a pee, as I throw off the warmth. Instant chill, bladder pressed in urgent release, crawling back into the fuzzed jumble of blankets.
I become aware of a lump; something digging into my hip. I roll over. It’s still there! I move again – gone, and I argue for another hour’s sleep. Dawn is off, maybe still over towards New Zealand, as I muggle back down and drift. Thoughts intrude, like sharp sticks, teasing me, challenging me to wake.
Last night’s fire was tamed by a watery fog, although I can taste that dank, near-dead fire smell, drifting through the camp. I open an eye and search out the hearth – yep there is still a red glow flickering from under that log. I close my eye and desperately try to ignore intruding thoughts. Bugger it. Stop it! I scrunch my eyes tighter. I hear a fart from a neighbouring swag.
I must have drifted off. Coffee. Smelt first, seconds later I hear the pot starting to gurgle. I lie still, doggo, then use the blanket to wipe the drip off my cold, exposed nose. Eyes are still closed, thinking about that first sip. There would be a generous spoonful of honey stirred in.
I could hear the spoon scraping around the mug and I cracked an eye. The old chipped pannikin – my designated red one, was approaching and it was plonked unceremoniously, a foot from my head. The damp earthy smells were instantly replaced with a steamy, sweetened cloud.
I wonder about a straw. Could it be bent, reticulating coffee between mug and mouth? Maybe an intravenous delivery? Nah, that wouldn’t deliver taste. If I lie here, could I manoeuvre my blanketed arms around the mug and sip, without spilling the brew? Probably not. I grumple upright, scalding noisy slurp. Oohh, wunderbar!
Two camp chairs at the fireplace, one is occupied! The fire had been kicked into gear and looks like it is delivering some usable heat! There is movement underneath the table. As I focus, I can make out a trail of sugar ants making off with the remnants of last night’s damper.
A couple of kookaburras cackle – I wonder if it is at us, or in competitive chorus with the murder of crows somewhere off in the scrub. A family of blue wrens arrive and compete for the damper.
“Cold last night!” “Yep, sure was” as I cracked my swag towards a new day!