Hi, it’s Green. Great news from Sydney, where Grey seems to be having a fun time touring around the city. Here’s the latest two blogs from the Werewolf of Oz. It’s followed by a new Folding Mirror poem from our ol’ pal, Marc Latham on the fmpoetry site.
We didn’t like the sound of Hunters Bay, so we headed over to the Sydney Harbour National Park, where I really liked the name of the headquarters and visitor centre: Greycliffe House.
Arriving at Greycliffe House, I was surprised to see that it was neither particularly grey nor built on a cliff.
I introduced myself to a gentleman there, and he told me his name was Dr. Watson of Watsons Bay.
I asked him why the house was called Greycliffe when it wasn’t a very good description. He apologised for not knowing, and said a man who probably would know, called Holmes, was off visiting some other homes for another inquiry at the moment.
The Greycliffe House Mouse
Not long after I’d thanked Dr. Watson and turned away,
in a triangular hall containing a square ball,
I was accosted by a small mouse of my colour grey.
It said its name was Cliff and the house was named after him,
I replied it was built in 1852 so how could that be true,
It said it was on a special diet and low-fat cheese kept it quiet.
I thought, Now, that’s nonsense.
It was getting late,
and I didn’t want to wait,
but the others were deep,
in conversation of sleep,
so I had forty winks,
and fourteen thinks.
The Barangaroo Kangaroo
I was awoken by the others,
who said a lady named Carruthers,
and her five brothers,
were heading to Bronte‘s Wuthers,
and we could go along,
if we didn’t take too long.
So I jumped up, leaving twelve intellectual thoughts behind, and taking two nonsense ones along. We ran to the beach, and got picked up soon after by a ferry taxi.
I thought, how convenient; and said that it must be nice living just a short hop or two from so many interesting places.