It’s been a busy week and I’m easing into an even busier weekend. Yes, it will be predictably White. There will be scarves, farmers’ markets, a moleskine notebook even some musical theatre (#77). Today, I’ve warmed up with some downward dog at yoga and summoned the creative energy whilst in Warrior 1 because there was a blog post to be written before the busy weekend. But so far, I seemed to have only tweaked a hamstring rather than opened up a flow of original and wonderfully entertaining new ideas.
So in the absence of any such ideas, I humbly offer the view from my bedroom balcony. Not into Johnny Depp’s apartment, unfortunately, but across Sydney Harbour to Barangaroo and the city skyline.
In the foreground is a rusted relic from the days when Sydney Harbour was a working port and not just about corporate Harbour cruises and doof-doof party boats with male strippers. ‘Who’d like to take him home to meet mum and dad?’ Yes, please do. Anyone. Take him away so I don’t have to hear it next Friday and Saturday nights as well.
There are rowing crews having whistles blown at them in the pre-dawn chill, liners fog-horning their departure and the regular chugging and tooting of the ferries. The Water Rats (Police) are at the end of the street, but we’re still waiting for any sign of life from there.
As night falls, the red and blue logos of skyscrapers seep across the water, blurred and diffused like one of Monet’s waterlily ponds. And of course the fireworks. Not just the New Year’s Eve extravaganza, but an almost weekly event at Darling Harbour or across at the Opera House. The snap, crackle and fizz of the red, green, silver and gold celebrations still send me to the window to ooh and aah.
It’s well-filling, inspiring and beautiful and that’s where I turned to today when my Warrior 1 failed me.