Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.


... nobody on the beach.

I lay on the beach and read a book for half an hour, paddled about in the water for maybe another half an hour, left the beach and two hours had passed.

It happens every time, like some weird time warp.

I put the book down on the sand and walked out maybe two hundred metres. The water depth declines very gradually and you can walk out for about half a mile before the water gets anywhere near going over your head. When you venture out this far and look back at the shore it feels like you are in the middle of Port Philip Bay.

It was warm. The sun was shining and there was no wind. A perfect summer day. All too rare this too-stormy early summer.

I looked back to shore. I could see about a kilometre up the beach towards Sorrento and the same the other way towards Rye.

An odd thing. The beach was empty, totally deserted. The week before Christmas, the children are on holidays, and a perfect beach day on one of the Peninsula's favourite beach playgrounds. Where was everyone?

It was dead silent as I waded back to shore. Although I think I may have caught the sound of a million credit cards being swiped, festively, in some not-too-far-away echoey shopping mall ...


We still don't know the Christmas weather forecast. The range of possibilities is, 40 degrees celsius plus. Or at the other end of the scale, 10 degrees with cold wind and rain.

Makes planning difficult.

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