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...I'm leaving tomorrow for my mate AG's wedding in Coffs Harbour. It's 10.5 hours north on a Greyhound coach and nine hours south again on a CountryLink train (on Tuesday), and I aim to use those trips and any other downtime to reread all three volumes of Guy Gavriel Kay's '80s fantasy masterpiece "The Fionavar Tapestry". To which, I now discover, his 2007 novel "Ysabel" is connected, making it a must-buy-ASAP. But I digress. The ceremony is on Sunday morn, in the C/H Botanical Gardens, followed by a reception at the local RSL. The Weather Channel forecasts a summery swelter, so it's as well the dress code is what Alan Partridge would term "sports casual". Both AG and his intended have BIG families and I expect a strong police and Salvation Army presence (his colleagues and her relos, respectively). I'll know literally five souls, but a few quick bevvies should quell my fear of "stranger danger". If I'm lucky, the Manny Pacquiao/Miguel Cotto fight will even be screening somewhere within the club. I've set aside Monday for recovering from the inevitable hangover and having a stickybeak around town. The Big Banana is a distinct, kitschy possibility. Haven't been there since I were a nipper. Beeswax as usual on Wednesday. There, that saves me messing about with Internet cafes or those standalone terminals (in hostels, travel agencies, etc.) that use proprietary cards. I may - ie. will - tweet occasionally from my mobile, though.