Breakfast is displayed the same as previously but there is a difference. Everybody has less food on their plate. The diminishing breakfasts. The days of gluttony are over. I go for what I feel will be good for me.
There is a dark cloud hovering and I hear, “When travelling with such a large group we need to drop the car off; put petrol in it; walk to the station; make sure everyone has a ticket. I’m getting stressed about everybody meeting the train and the plane.”
I now imagine all the things that may go wrong. I’m worried.
We arrive at the station very early. Walk in Katoomba to a 100 year old café. Not open plan. Redolent with character.
The dark clouds have followed us, “I knew it was going to be like this. They are taking ages. How long does it take to make a cup of coffee?”
I ask, “What should I do?”
“Eat it quickly.”
“I can’t do that. It hasn’t arrived yet.”
“You’ll have to take it with you. I’ve got so many things to worry about.”
“If I worry about it will it change the speed at which it comes?”
“No it won’t. That’s what I ‘m worried about.”
The scones and coffee arrive. I sup. We walk back to the station and wait for the train.
The train glides smoothly. In The Quiet Carriage an announcement says, “No loud conversation. No loud music. No loud phone calls.” The train flows smoothly through the trees; no bumps; no obstacles. The carriage is as quiet as its name says. I can’t hear the engine or the clickety clack of the wheels.
We pass a highway. Every car on the highway is unique and not linked or joined to any other car. Every car is going on its own unpredictable journey. On the train we are connected. Together we pass a rock wall. Who cut this track through the hills? What were they thinking? The train effortlessly glides towards Sydney. On and on and on. Even the stations don’t interrupt our flow. They stop us temporarily without any interruption to our journey. We flow onwards and downwards.
On the train I hear conversations behind me. I try and listen. I can’t decipher anything. But I keep on being drawn back to the jumble of voices.
We arrive in Sydney and meet with the three sisters in a park at Circular Quay. We need lunch and we head off up the street. I know everybody will have an opinion on food and where to buy it. My opinion is to walk down the street then enter and buy from whatever we see.
At Circular Quay our trip to the Blue Mountains is finished. We leave the three sisters and The Three Sisters.