Well the weather bureau got the forecast right for a change and the 34 degrees they promised actually materialised; the sun's been cracking the flags down in Coogee today.
This morning I walked up the road to Jessica's hair salon. I've avoided having my hair cut for a whole four months because I'm too scared to go back to Narelle. I've worked out that Wednesday's the best day to book because that's her day off; the problem is, I usually have Ella in tow on Wednesdays, so avoiding Narelle is easier said than done. Even when you book with Jessica, sometimes you get Narelle.
Anyway, I think Jessica knows Narelle's not good for business because today she flogged me more superduper hair products to protect my hair from the summer, no doubt doubling her profits on what was a slack day in the salon. Narelle might be bad for business but the problem is, Australia's short of hairdressers. Qualified hairdressers applying for residency get extra points because they're on the shortage skills list, and Sydney's no exception to this, so if you're a whizz with the scissors, come on down.
The result was a great cut, but anything I saved in haircuts over the last four months I've now spent on shampoo.
It's the half term school holidays this week and next, and with summer looming, the year elevens have left to do their exams (that's the fifth years for those of us who still think in old money), though judging by the swathes of them on the beach today, they're not exactly giving the revision their best shot.
When I left school to do my fifth year exams, the closest I got to this sort of relaxation was lying in the back garden of my friend Sarah's house, turning over whenever Gary Davies hit the suntan bong on radio one. Either that or sneaking off to watch cricket; 1989 being a very bad year for concentrating on anything given that the Ashes were being contested and I had a season ticket for Old Trafford.
Anyway, the photos show the pool at the south end of the beach taking a battering from the Pacific this afternoon (the pool in the foreground is the toddler pool). Quite a swell on the waves today, a wind strong enough to send carpets of sand wafting across the beach caking the sunbathers, but the water temperature's still only 17 degrees (which, roughly translated, means it's gonna be cold when it reaches your undercarriage). It's also fly season because the sudden warm weather has us batting them away from our mouths and ears every few seconds. I want to wear our Kakadu nets but Darren says not.
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