You don't get any real signs that seasons are changing in Sydney. Summer starts making its intentions known in October and it's still pretty emphatic well into April. Right now, in late May (which is technically the third month of autumn) big patches of coloured leaves are only just starting to show up in parks and in my mother's new back yard near Lake Macquarie.
You don't often get real rock cakes either, but you can in the cake shop in the quaint shopping strip of my mother's new neighbourhood. You definitely don't get photos of these rock cakes because, so rare they are, we devoured them all before I could say, "where's my camera again?"
You never get to see bellbirds - they're very paranoid little birds - but in my mother's new backyard you can hear them continuously. Here's a couple of seconds' worth:
And you never, ever, go into charming little second hand stores and find a magnificernt wool crepe peplum jacket with a beautiful spray of coloured beads for fourteen dollars. You might find a silk scarf or an old bone buckle or a needlepoint glasses case perfect for holding lippies and hairclips ...
.. but the likelihood of finding such a beautifully preserved garment, one that you can wear tomorrow with a pencil skirt and snub nosed ankle straps, one that looks like it floated across the decades from the wardrobe of Julia Flyte in Brideshead Revisited straight in to mine is very remote.
But not impossible:
I had to do some photo manipulation to ensure you got the detail of the cut and shape. Note the built-in brooch of beading, which I feature in close-up:
There's not one missing, and they're all applied by hand.
I wish I could travel back in time to spend some time in Adrian's store. I bet he (or she) had some fabulous dresses and heard some excellent gossip from some of London's best parties.
I'm going to an afternoon tea party tomorrow afternoon, hosted by one of my learned and erudite friends who also is a fabulous cook. I will be making my entrance in Adrian's glorious peplum top. I am hoping I don't go unnoticed.
And finally, you won't find yourself surprised to learn my insolent cat Kate has found a new way to insult me without even opening her eyes.
I'm certain she is giving me the finger.