Monday, December 1, 2008

The Strange Fruit of My Labour

I could tempt fate by saying the worst is over and just in fact did. I may come to regret that. But it would be the regret of a fool who's looking for excuses because he knows he doesn't believe in fate. 26 days later: a day off. Allow me to state that in clear terms. I worked a minimum of ten hours a day for 26 straight and this is my first one free. Why, you ask, and how did it all come to this? And I can't help you there. Like so many of the worlds most confusing realities this one doesn't have a clear answer. Have I developed a heretofore dormant but now raging work ethic. Well I don't feel any different. Whatever it is the worst is over now. And the fruits of my many days journey into night can be found here:

(Download the plugin and try out at least a couple of the clues, it's pretty cool even if I do say so myself. And a note to people who live up over: The competition is only for us down under.)

Anyhow, like most readers, you probably want to hear about ecstacy, the virulence of the young traveller on the worlds ulterier face, the recipe for joy in the overworked and under awed tapper away of blogs, Myself. Well here it is: Pancakes and strawberries with maple syrup and a very fine coffee, followed swiftly by a stroll through the royal botanic gardens by the opera house, topped off with an hour or two transfixed by a series of monets and renoirs in the art gallery of new south wales with a side of excellent sushi from Makoto in the city all washed down with some baskin robbins ice cream and an hour or two reading under a tree watching the ships come in to Sydney harbour. Serve warm to the dedicated borrower of passion.

There are possibly better ways to spend a day off but I haven't figured them out yet. If you know them please write them for me here but after devouring the above I realised that my perception of this, maybe any, place is like a cheap hoody: Reversible.