Life on the Berm

So it transpires that spending a week or so of one's holiday time up at Bermagui - or The Berm as one has popularised it - is an experience awash with Cautions.


Firstly one should note that filling a long drive with constant jovial conversation along the lines of "why is it only 80 here? Oh look at that funny-shaped tree. I saw another cow. Stop going so slow. I'm hungry." and so on, is perplexingly annoying for those such as Salsa Girl who for some reason think that moments of silence are a requirement in a five hour drive.


My next Caution concerns the opening of windows for refreshing night breeze when staying in a mosquito infested locale. One should be especially alert for windows missing the fly-wire screen necessary for a nights sleep uninterrupted by nigh-constant buzzing and biting.


Further Cautions concern the dangers of sudden loss of stretches of time in the afternoons caused by partaking in perfectly normal amounts of food and drink. As one is far too rugged and manly to "nap" these can only be explained by some kind of local time distortion unique to the coastal area.


Additional things to be Cautious about include: assuming that the sea shall be as hot as the day itself; kayaking into shallow regions where the mud clutches at ones bottom (kayak bottom that is); strenuous river swimming that can easily be averted by standing up and walking through the hip deep water.


One should also be aware that holidaying far for the big smoke can lead to sporadic network connections that make it hard to feed one's not-at-all-an-addiction desire for Internet access and can in fact lead to sudden dropou...








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