The leftover bit of my SUNDAY. The last of the sun, the last of the afternoon, the last of the being away - for the day anyway. It also felt a bit like the last of my summer, as the season changes. The three-fifty train from Gosford is less than special, but a morning spent reading the paper on a mostly-deserted beach up at the national park, still and clear, was lovely. Followed by a late lunch and some good honest talks and it was all very worthwhile. YEAR TWO.