Every year as Spring sets in there seems to be one flower that suddenly stands out from all the others. This year I keep seeing bluebells, not stunted and drought starved but with nice moisture filled stems and bouncy heads. There is a certain person I immediately thought of when I spied them growing, someone who decided last Spring in Kent to recreate a scene from a movie.... Of course my bluebells are inner city plants not growing in tree bowered fields....
Not a lot achieved yesterday, probably due to the hour and a quarter in the dentists chair to start the day. I get so annoyed when I have so little studio time allocated for the week and I just can't make it happen. There is no use trying to push through sometimes even though I have so much I want to do.
I've been off to the supermarket this morning, spying young men loaded down with bags of sliced bread and bottles of sauce, 'tis Grand Final Day here. Half time sausages wrapped in bread and kick-to-kick out in the street. I may loath football but I love the Fitzroy pubs and their festivities, the fire trucks coming through to block streets off at quarter, half and tree-quarter time and the pub dwellers tumbling out like school kids to run mad and happy in the streets and lanes.
I'll just be working in the shop. Often GF Day is a time for the ladies, leaving their partners at home glued to the TV, for a little quiet shopping and coffee with their friends. As soon as the game starts there is an eerie quiet that descends over Melbourne, everyone locked away and concentrating. I once drove passed the MCG just as the game began, no one on the roads, not a soul to be seen, but an intense focus of energy zinging from the oval playing field.
So if you could drop me in a slightly charred sausage in a slice of bread, sauce no onions please, I'd much appreciate it.