Brunch at Sugarloaf Bay

Sunday morning and I wasn’t expecting this. My lovely cousin Sally texted me to say they were just around the corner and would I fancy breakfast?

Now for most people, that means jumping in a car and driving to a cafe. Or strolling to the shops. Here in Sydney it meant something a bit different.

Sally came by in her little speedboat, picked me up from Gurney Crescent pontoon and whisked me back to their boat.

Door to ‘door’ in ten minutes.

My camera seems to only want to post full sized pictures, so I apologize for those of you unused to the glare of the blue sky and the sea.

Sydney is made up of lots of these little bays and Sugarloaf is an amazingly quiet spot. Here’s a map for those of you who might recognize a few of the neighbouring areas.

Many people who have boats think nothing of going into the main harbour areas for frolics in the daytime; to meet up with friends on other boats and to swim at favourite beaches. But come dusk they head up the harbour and into Middle Harbour to anchor away from it all and have a very peaceful night.

Away from it all? Not quite.

I had barely recovered from the shock of knowing that Brett and Sally’s boat had a tv, a microwave, a toaster and all the freezers and fridges a well stocked boat needs for hot thirsty Sydney Sundays when Gary arrived.

Gary the coffee man.  Oh yes, your very own barista in his little boat beetling about the harbour making perfect flat whites and other coffee deliveries to your door.  And he delivers the papers. And will analyse last night’s rugby results and chat.

You can even call him and tell him where you are anchored and he will include you in the morning coffee run.

Did I ever say that living in Sydney is a surreal existence?

At least they never take it for granted.

We had smoked salmon on toast to go with the coffee, fed the ducks and watched the fish. And then sadly I had to return back to the real world of preparing for my father’s farewell party and clearing up.

He would have loved the outing. He swam laps at Gurney pool most mornings when he could manage the steps. And I don’t think he would have been averse to the French champagne we spotted Brett uncorking just as Sally prepared to drop me back at the jetty and back to real life.