Moving day

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Thanks for following me along the Glass Road.

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Mossie Head

Now if these two intrepid gals don’t look like the real thing and following in the footsteps of Vita S-W travelling to Tehran and Gertrude Bell, traveller, writer and archaeologist extra-ordinaire and full bottle on all things Arabic then mossie heads are not THE required headware for would be Goldfields explorers.

Flies, and yes these should really be called Fly Heads, are an irritating and unstoppable part of bush wildlife the majority of which lurk quietly in the bush and are rarely seen unless startled from a sun baking  doze. The bush fly, sticky little beastie, attracted to any exposed area where moisture may be presumed to be in miniscule amounts, arrives the moment the car door is opened and a rush of aircon air floods out into the dry, hot day. Those that don’t swarm around eyes, nose and mouth do a Heathrow landing pattern hover and land on shirt backs.

This face net, with stylish camo patterned skull cap that sits happily on top of head, cap or hat was such a godsend. We could laugh!!!, talk, blink, take photos and even pop a glass of wine under the veil for an uncrunchy gulp of the glorious Languedoc red without the usual Aussie salute of a swipe at the face accompanied by atrocious swearing and truly enjoy the wide rusty red, salted pan and blue Goldfield horizons to say nothing of sitting astride C Y O’Connor’s golden pipeline carrying the golden drop east to Kalgoorlie.

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