Our second day during the Sydney Writers' Festival

We planned on finding masses of fiction fans down at the wharves, but there was only one man slowly setting up a row of orange flags, his patient border collie tethered to his van. So we walked back to Circular Quay and spread out our banner on a bench. Further down the promenade, there was a bushie in clown pants singing 'The Ryebuck Shearer'.