Ah, a shiny new template for the new year. Like new clothes. Of which I have none. (New clothes, not clothes. I have clothes. I’m wearing some now, in fact.)
It’s summer here, and the time is right for dancing in the streets. (I don’t know what’s WRONG with me at the moment; I can’t stop singing bad song lyrics to myself. Our email server was playing silly buggers at work last week and so my co-worker yelled across the cubicle farm, “Send me an email!” Something about the cadence made me immediately think of “Send me an Angel”, so I sang, “Right now … right now-ow-ow!” back across the office until I realised my El Retardo level had increased exponentially.) (Note to anyone under 20: you will not recognise this song. I am sorry for wasting your time. Also, LOL!)
I believe somewhere up there (beneath the pale moonlight …. it’s an AFFLICTION, I need help, not ridicule) I was about to talk about summer and the welcome wave of good weather. A good friend of mine has moved into a little place on Marine Parade, which is opposite Elwood/St Kilda beach … needless to say, she is now a VERY good friend and I feel compelled to see her often. I was there on the weekend and we drank some G&Ts and took a relaxed stroll along the beach and through the shallows (water = COLD. Bah.) Although? When it’s 37 degrees and hotter than Satan’s armpit? The rollerbladers, they are still out exerting themselves. I fully expected to see one or two collapsed on the bike path from heat exhaustion, legs splayed in the air with rollerblade wheels spinning aimlessly. In fact, truth be told, I was quite looking forward to it. However, no rollerbladers were harmed in the making of this blog entry. I’m as disappointed as you are.
Bugger! The only good rollerblader is one with their legs in the air, wheels spinning, helmet askew… and a crowd gathered around them pointing and laughing! (snigger)
Cyalayta
Mal :o)