I sit here today in a thriving café. The good old whirr of the coffee machine, glass cupboards full of little bits and little posies in water on every wooden table. Meal comes out. The pink rose petals scattered across the usual avo toast suspect matches my pink herbal tea. Succumb to obligatory social media photo. “Have you tried the coffee here yet?” “No,”I say, slightly embarrassed. It appears that many people of my home town already have: I am a late goer. “You’re in for a real treat.” Usually I’d just go with it. How can I say no to that, the excitement and pride on his face is evident… and yet, I explain that I can only have half strength coffee and that sometimes coffee doesn’t agree with me. They lose interest a bit. Gosh, this breaky tastes great. I wish it would go on for a longer time. I try to prolong it – I should have requested two pieces of bread… Outside are cyclists, looking content in their flock. Admirably practical …
In a few hours time I may just be with loved ones watching NYE fireworks, eating pizza, enjoying the cool sweetness of ice-cream on a balmy night (or all of the above) but not right now.
Fear Of The Unknown + Writing Conferences = Too Scary Box “I’m not scared of anything except going to writing conferences!” Not all that long ago, I could have worn a badge with those words plastered on it… not that I would have wanted to.
Deadlines & Daylesford Dreaming: a travel musing featuring Autumn leaves, lavender and the beauty of a weekender
Today, I took a long lunch break and joined a friend for a literary talk and lunch at the RACV Club in Melbourne.
I admit it, I am constantly thinking about the 18th century and “olden times.”
Weekends are meant for reading, right?
Daydream believer: Honour your creative gifts. (Do it: that’s the essence of this verbose and predictable ramble.)