Saturday doubled up on fog, waking to foghorns, that forlorn long bovine wail that echoes around Sydney Harbour and the foreshores is one of the better variations of Spring. Like in Camelot the morning fog disappears. Usually. Saturday afternoon saw the fog pawing its way back, grey and misty, sneaking over Middle Head and giving a Mona Lisa moment to the Baths at Balmoral. A string of barely glowing incandescent bulbs suggest that day was done for.