Today it was warm, probably about 2 or 3 degrees Celcius, and I walked by myself in the evening and let my Blundstones take me down the snowy road - the wind blew warm and my hair fell behind and I didn't need my gloves. One forgets what they miss -or miss without really knowing what - I listened to Sarah Blasko and John Butler and thought of balmier times.Did you have a bath on the verandah as the sun was setting over the fields? Did you watch the bush fade from colour? I can feel dry grass, rough beneath my feet, my hand brushing the tips, sinking sun making my face hot, the Australian insects buzzing. My feet on the red dirt of Broome, treading the path to the sea. So soft from the city, encased in shoes, finally feeling the earth beneath. Or padding over the teak boards of the Shangri La, immune to the silver nails jutting out, hard, bright colours of white and brown, with the endless sea beyond.I know in many places New Years Eve was warm, with you swimming around a Melbourne party, your shoulder blades bare, the heat of the day settling into your skin. Happy New Year to you, and see you there next time.
