nightride

I have a love-have relationship with Sydney. Especially the summer one. During the day the temperatures rise to 40 degrees and that is a bit too much for a European fox. If you're lucky and you have an air-conditioned apartment, you're doing fine. Until you step outside. And than you get it full frontal.

So you're sweating and dying from harsh sun and cancerous UV rays and you wish you'd be somewhere else. And you long to have a beer and to have another one, so you just don't have to leave the air-conned pub. And you're cursing the weather and traffic and crowds in the street and your boss and whatever else you can think of as you're getting more and more inpatient and nervous and exhausted and sunburnt.

And you wish to go to the beach. Or stay inside, or maybe... Maybe you wish it'd be night already and instead of forty it would only be twenty-five.

And then - it's suddenly two o'clock in the morning and your favourite beachside pub is closing doors (I definitely do not insist it has to be Coogee Bay!) and you're left alone or with somebody almost perfect. Preferably so!

Time to enjoy the summer, revive with every breath of breeze and every wave breaking on the beach, and talk and talk and talk, or just watch the surf. And then maybe accidentally touch and incidentally kiss. And make love.

Or go home and give it a try after another sunny day that makes you curse the weather, traffic, crowds, your boss or whatever else you can think of...