Is three o’clock in the afternoon too soon to document the day? I’m waiting for The Ballerina to emerge from the dance studio and this seems like a more productive use of my phone than aimlessly scrolling through social media.
Rain
Today’s wet. The sky is white grey and the rain is falling in fat drops on my windscreen. I left home without an umbrella so now I’m wet, hair stringy and straw like, mascara smudged. But I’ve had so much fun. I’ve had no commitments. The Husband has been teaching at a workshop all day and The Ballerina had FULL DRESS REHEARSAL. The Champion shivered at the pool teaching her little puddings to float before curling up with a friend on the sofa to read tarot cards.
And this left me at a happy loose end.
Critique
So I hunkered down in a cafe near the ballet studio, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Trent Dalton had a feature article in The Australian on Bob Hawke and Blanch Dalpuget, a teaser for a new biography released later this month. I devoured it, like I do all of Trent’s stories, hoping to absorb some of his talent by osmosis. But this story fell a bit flat for me. I suspect the writer didn’t warm to his subjects as much as other, lesser mortals he’s written about.
It’s incredibly difficult to present something fresh about a celebrity who’s been so thoroughly examined. Trent did his best with a scoop on Bob’s near-death health scare but details were scant and I didn’t feel any drama. No matter. If nothing else I now have a very clear image of Hawke / Dalpuget interior decorating. And I want to read the book, which was clearly the aim of the article.
Turning right
After coffee I should have gone home, but instead of turning left I turned right. Sometimes you just have to do that. And I found myself driving around the narrow, elevated streets of a posh Brisbane suburb. Which inspired me to hunt for real estate. It would be so nice to have a verandah with a view of water or city lights. Just imagine the sunset photos I could take. And long exposure shots of city lights.
And those thoughts led me to the camera store nestled among converted red brick warehouses and shady figs in my favourite part of town. It was like the car just drove itself there.
A year ago I lost my tripod. I’d left it on the ground beside my car one busy tournament day and an opportunist made off with it. I hope they’re using it to take good pics. I’ve felt so stupid for my absent-minded behaviour that I’ve lived without a tripod for twelve months. But my new lens, the Big Bertha I bought for portraits and sporting close ups, needs support. So I made a mad dash from my car through the rain to the store and gate-crashed a party. I discovered the store was holding a special event, complete with bagels and espresso coffee and 15 percent off all their gear. I call that serendipity. And now I own a tripod again.
Which made me want to take photographs. So I drove to the river, eager to grab some watery shots in the gloomy light. But my battery let me down. The best I could do was the pic featured here, an appropriate shot given today’s constant rain.
