Jailbird

Well, I'm still here and it doesn't seem likely I'm going to be leaving too soon, I'm having far too much fun hanging around and basking in the pleasure of not having to do anything that I don't really want to do. Such as getting up at a reasonable hour or spending more than an hour or 2 a day vertical.
That said, I have actually managed to get round to a few things beside sleeping and watching the fire (superior to most TV); currently staying in a little village called Triabunna on the eastern coast of Tassie. Not much here besides a lovely backpacker's (situated in the middle of rolling fields, chooks and sheep and featuring besides aforementioned wood fire, home-made cookies and a steady stream of interesting company) and the ferry to Maria Island, one of the old penal colonies built here for the hardened crims of the 1820s. A beautiful spot and full of bizarre wildlife (Ozzie fauna thus far seems to me chiefly to be distinguished by spectacular, almost wilful weirdness - even the ordinary-looking ones make up for it by coming out with noise you'd more usually associate with industrial machinery, old-school dialup modems, fire alarms or The Goon Show), but also pretty damn bleak if you were stuck there I imagine. Spent a night, as sole guest, in the old penitentiary with nothing but a candle and a sputtering fire for company. 5-star it wasn't, but as memorable as you'd imagine. Makes you bloody glad you're not a convict and it isn't the 1820s (as I often have cause to reflect).
Hanging round here until the next bus on Wednesday, after which either Hobart or the Tasman Peninsula and another old prison - I love 'em.