When flying I like to have the window seat if I can. That view from the sky is something I never get over. Yesterday, flying to Melbourne I was surprised to see how at the end of winter, this wide brown land, to quote poet Dorothea Mackellar, was not so brown. Definitely green, with splashes of canola yellow.
By the time I was on the ground, heading for the CBD to meet Shelley, Melbourne looked like this.
Dismal huh? And it's not possible, really, to arrive in Melbourne on a rainy day and not start humming the Whitlam's song Melbourne (iconic Australian act of the late 90s, for the non- Aussies who won't get the reference):
Walking 'round the rainy city, what a pity there's things to do at home.
I found Shelley, we had coffee in one of those desperately Melbournesque side alleys with an equally Melbournesque tiny, excellent purveyor of coffee. Fortified, there was just long enough before my lunch time meeting to head to yarn stores, Morris and Sons and then Clegs.
Did I go crazy? Did I shop til I dropped? No. I did not. I bought one extra ball of sock yarn that I needed (yes, needed. I was close to running out) and a Knit Picks crochet hook. A souvenir if you like.
One meeting later, I was back in the Qantas club lounge sipping Sauvignon Blanc looking out over the wet, glistening tarmac.
The return view was not so good.
Probably just as well. I picked up Nick Hornby's new novel at the airport, Juliet, Naked and was riveted. If you're a music nerd like I am, you'll love his new book.
Home in time for dinner, I'd say that was a pretty good day, as far as down and back in eight hours goes (which, incidentally, is the time it would have taken to drive one way!)
ps thanks for being so welcoming to EssiMay yesterday. I think she was a bit nervous.
1 hour ago