Like a Billabong

Lauch and I went to see what was outside of Melbourne yesterday. Found this place called Wonga Park... all the names here seem a bit odd after nearly three years of "Shoe Lane" and "Paddington" and "Cambridge." We walked for an hour and a bit along the Yarra. People were canoeing and swimming and some were just floating along in black rubber inner tyres. There were parts where the river widened, corners where people's shouts echoed and you could hear the stillness of the trees and the splashing of the river. So, so Australian.

It's Mango Season!

I thought when I left Thailand I'd never have mangoes that good again. But today we found mangoes, 3 for a fiver at the local farmer's market. Now all we need is some sticky rice.

Tuesday's Graffiti

Friday Night

I took this photo at St Kilda on Friday night, as the sun was going down. Those houses look out at the beach toward the horizon.

I love where I live right now.

Look Down

I was on the 39th floor today, looking down through floor-to-ceiling windows at floor-to-ceiling skyscrapers. I snuck this photo with my phone camera, eating a kool mint and filling out forms.

Transition

I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof and now the front porch is slick with water. Strangely, it all feels cozy and somehow right that it should be wet outside and the light falling through our kitchen window is filtered and dozy.

Lately, I've had this desire for soup with pearl barley and potato and celery in it, wanted to light candles in the evenings. Felt slightly odd that it's been humid and 27 degrees outside. I have this feeling of autumn, even though it's coming towards summer here, if I were in the UK now it would be autumn and frosty and beautiful leaves everywhere and soup would be just right, for now.

Funny that I went to the UK wanting to get under its skin, somehow to understand what it is to be English. And instead, it made me realise how truly Australian I am and crept its way under MY skin. Funny how things don't always happen in the way you would expect.

Cinque Terre

A cool evening with the breeze wandering through Biassa, sitting in a little local place eating thin thin pizza with just tomato, mozarella, basil and a beer. Hair still wet from swimming in the sea, sand between my toes. Looking out and down to the harbour. Walking home past a church and some Italians tending their gardens, windows open, the smell of vines in the air.

Sunday Morning

Vanilla soothing black tea; Silver stars in a whiskey sample bottle