The 12 Apostles (Minus 3)

Or, if you prefer (as I do) one of the Aboriginal names: The Sow and Piglets or The Place of Many Heads. Besides, it is. I think, nine apostles at present, as new ones get calved or swoon into the sea on a fairly regular basis. I like the story about the two tourists who became marooned when one of the arched stacks (dubbed London Bridge) abruptly became a precarious island.

I noticed this young couple standing outside the file of snap-happy tourists taking group shots or selfies against the spectacular backdrops, bite-sized oblongs of grandeur in keeping with the silly name (as if the landscape needed pantomime robes and fake beards).

I felt a bit sorry for these stray apostles. The sea wind was steady and strong and they looked cold and a wee bit desperate to curl into each other (the only land or seascape that mattered to them).