Finally summoned the energy to drive out to Warrawong in search of a small table and a bookshelf. Ended up buying a toaster and some wooden coat hangers. On the way back, drove a bit further and stopped at Sandon Point. Thought I’d wander down to where I’d been yelled at the other night. Saw a fluoro hat and black jacket on one of the headland’s stone memorials. Some weed killer had spelled “FUZZ” on the grass. The piece of driftwood was propped up beside the fence, leaving the public path open down to the beach. In the daylight, I instantly recognised the shrine – small fenced area, prominent surfboard, knick-knacks, the solar-garden lights, a newspaper with the headline, “Save the Little Angels”. When I got home I did a Google search on “Sandon Point Fuzz”. Turns out Fuzz had been a sixteen year old surfer who’d died there fifteen years ago. I have no idea who the woman who yelled at me was – a girlfriend, his mother, somebody else entirely?

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