Lake Bolac: The Home of Bob the Bunyip

Paris left this morning, bound for Yarrawonga and the Murray River, for a weekend of what he calls "chemically enabled debauchery and decadence" though I don't think the order matters. Apparently poor old Lake Bolac is too "straight" (as he said pointedly to me). Lake Mulwala and the Yarrawonga Weir "rock", it seems. I must confess I find the idea of skijets and water skiing abhorrent. I thought it was a fair concession when we raised no objection to Bill Brammall and the Hamilton Rowing Club trying to set up a branch over here.

And whatever is wrong with our golf course? Or our wineries? Like Moyston is second rate or something compared with the Rutherglen wines? No! Paris is simply what Christopher Booker called a "neophiliac": nothing tried and true ever seems to engage him for long enough for him to try it, let alone sup its truth! Parigi, o caro ... Sospiro e luce tu mi sarai, Tutto il futuro ne arriderá ... Ah, non piú! Well! At least not for the next few days!