photos of photos, and there’s no place like home
God, I did it again. Accidentally hit the back button and lost my unsaved post halfway through (although I say halfway through I can’t really be sure. I was somewhere in the depths of things, heading somewhere mostly unspecified, which is the glory and the risk of unsaved, unpremeditated blog posts, perhaps).
I hate myself and the internet in general when the wipe-out happens. And now I will summarise in a slipshod, irritated, get-it-over-and-done-with kind of way.
I was saying that this is a photo of a photo of the Harbour Bridge, taken today whilst waiting in the Gate 50 boarding lounge for my homeward-bound plane. I was also saying that I like this photo more than I would a run-of-the-mill first-hand snapshot of the HB in situ. Then I think I said I didn’t know why this was, or that maybe I did, but I was too many wines in to recall my Derrida, or Lacan (or whoever the clever head-bending chap was, whose name and point eludes me right now).
Then I said I am in the kitchen, back in New Zealand, with the lights dimmed, listening to The Necks, as a parting farewell to my Aussie stint. The Necks are pretty damned awesome. We saw them a couple of years ago at the Arts Festival. That’s kind of beside the point but I would recommend seeing them, not that I’m a music reviewer or anything ridiculous like that.
I love Sydney’s noisy birds and its shiny cars. I love the fact that it is big and brash and bright and sprawling, and that it is home to some of my favourite people in the world. But still there is no place like home, as Dorothy would say.
Tonight, back on terra familia (I think I just made that up, but you know what I mean) I spent more on groceries than I did in an entire Sydney long weekend. I cooked a nice meal. The French doors were open. God forbid – it was even quite nice weather here in Wellington this evening. I have a poinsettia arrangement on the kitchen table and we assembled the Christmas tree – our best yet, might I add – listening to The Rogers Sisters LP (average) and The Clean LP (very catchy), and I managed not to fall through the hole in the floorboards. [Every day above ground is a good day, as they say.]
It almost feels like Christmas. All I need now is Snoopy.
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Tags: diary, dorothy doldrumatic, every day, sightseeing