July 31st, 2010

White Collar kiss

the lost boys

Thurs: So, last night I toddled off to hear a talk being given by some gentleman travelling from England. Oh, alright, it was Mr Stephen Fry and I was in heaven, absoloute heaven.

And toddle isn't quite the right word. Bent over against driving gusts of rain, more like. It was so miserable a red double decker bus trundled past and it had gone a block and a half before my poor brain twigged that something was out of kilter, and I can forgive the poor old brain for thinking trudging in the dark and cold driving rain naturally goes with red double decker buses, from past experience, but this ain't London. No idea what the bus was about but it bemused and set the scene.

Then, just as I arrived at the Quay, enormous fireworks burst forth from the Opera House forecourt. Full on, for about fifteen minutes, and so very pretty. I stood, clung to the railings in my mittens and scarf, ooohing and ahhing at the unexpected show. No idea what that was about either but it sure blasted away the work merde with bright sparkly pretty so I was happy.
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