Red socks and Rancid

The red socks were yesterday. An unknown colleague, Mike, came by to show me a system I was unfamiliar with. Mike must be around 50, and looked respectably dressed right down to his ankles. When he sat down, I saw he was wearing bright red socks! I warmed to him immediately. Not to mention how much more when I sniffed a waft of Old Spice drifting over my desk. Ahhh.

The Rancid was this morning. I had an early start, going to see Soph in Shenton Park for the monthly torture and then driving home through blinding (literally) sunshine. I dropped the car and walked to work, and in the chilly morning across the carpark I really fancied a bit of Rancid. So when Radio Havana almost blew my hair off, I broke out in an enormous smile, and again with that feeling, that today belongs to me, and I am in the most beautiful place in the world.

I also had this feeling while brushing my teeth in the breaking dawn today- the view out the open bathroom window was a pale black sky with a sliver of bright orange, illuminating the silhouettes of gum trees.

If only air conditioning was outlawed...

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