Getting on with the job.

Monday June 17^th:

The joys of an amateur motor mechanic. The bus has jibbed and will not go. Have spent all day on the flopping thing but no good. Have fiddled with the carburetter until I do not know how it should go, but still the car goes not. This afternoon a chap who says he is a mechanic has been looking it over but his pursasion so far is no better than mine. So there she stands just outside the door, a model of pigheadedness. To rid myself of the feeling of depression occasioned by the apology for a car, went tonight and dined with the police sergeant, a real tough old sergeant major of the army. He batches here , although has a gin or two to do the housework. The tea was had in real bachelor style, he is his own cook. One course but it was sufficient. A plate piled with a composition of boiled beef and bacon , potatoes, pumpkin, cabbage, peas carrots and parsnips. It was good too only all I wanted to do afterwards was sleep. Came home, started to write, but music next day (Door?) was too attractive, so thither I went and it was night.

Tuesday June 18^th:

For the greater part of today the bus caused grave concern and solicitated anxious inquiries from all sides, but this evening she went, the timing somehow being out and when corrected made a vast difference. She is not in perfect running order yet, but she goes and so we are thankful for small mercies. Have been straightening up books and papers in my room before and since tea and now until bedtime will be writing.

Wednesday June 19^th:

Getting the bus in final working order and then loading up for a trip out west. Having made all necessary preparations, left Camooweal at 3.30 o’clock this afternoon, taking with me Dr Pincus fom here. There is a big race and sports meeting commencing tomorrow and continuing for 3 days at Rankine in N.T. 100 miles from here, to which the Dr is going. My arrangements can only carry me that far until I see what station folk are there. Leaving here at 3.30 we crossed the Georgina River, now dry, just outside the town. Six miles further on we came to the border gate, which let us through to the N.T. and out on to the Avon Downs Station on the Barkley Tableland. The country looks very dry although there is a fair amount of feed about and the cattle look well. We crossed a couple of dry creek beds, although near where we crossed in one there was a water-hole not yet dry on which were a few ducks. 48 miles from Camooweal we came to the station homestead of the Avon Station and there pulled in. Mr Lloyd is the manager but was in bed, with a bad knee. Mrs Lloyd was a good hostess and took us in and afternoon tea or ‘smoko;’ as is it called here was soon in our way. We talked then etc with different ones until tea time or supper as it is termed here. After supper we had a sing until bedtime when retired. Not to sleep though for a while as the Dr and I slept in one room and we got talking on Christianity and its value in life etc and it was early morn before we went to sleep. The Dr maintains that the Church is wrong when it gives anything but the ethical teaching of Christ, that this is what is wanted and nothing else. He has no place in his religion for faith, everything must be reasoned out.