Back in the morning to our second home, where J stuffed us and small C in her small car and took us on a car-sicky ride to the Channon Market. (The locals pronounce it ‘Ch-annon’ like ch-ch-ch-changes -while the touristy blow ins pronounce it ‘Shannon’. Anyway.) It was basically exactly the same as it had been when I was last there about 12 years ago. Too much craft and not enough crap. But the food made up for it. J appeared to know every third person that we passed and even M, the labrador du jour, was looking at her with incredulous eyes.

M bought me a cat book, the title of which I will rediscover when we finally unpack the van. Drove back to Repentance with me staring fixedly out the window in a successful effort to avoid nausea. J, her film editing tenant Becky, myself and a Heather and another girl whose name now escapes me, shelled out $25 each to go to a spa in Mullumbimby for two hours. We all tore between the spas, the sauna (which was hobbit size and mildly claustrophobic) and the plunge pool, getting louder and gigglier and louder and gigglier, and ended up being told off twice. The second time I was told off by a woman who spoke so softly that I couldn’t hear what she was saying. “What?” I shrieked, “Pardon?”
I leaned my ear close to her. She was wearing flowing clothes and crystals.
“Could you keep it down please? I’m working.”
Hippy.

J and I sped off to watch the boys surf at Wategos – although the waves weren’t great. We all adjourned at dusk to a fish and chip shop in Byron, which, being in Byron, sold tempura vegetables and prawns. Excellent.