With afternoon thunderstorms temporarily shelving the sunblock and togs, Rock managed to barter an hour on the cycleways of Olympic Park for 2 hours trudging around the DFO factory outlet store. The problem with a mall designed in the shape of a synchrotronic particle accelerator is that once that high energy force field traps you ("hey aren't we out by that Dress Smart store, might be a few good bargains, shall we can have a quick look?"), it's around and around and around in a dizzying spin of bargains, unbelievable bargains, never to be repeated bargains, and bargains to end all other bargains. Finding an exit is about as likely as spotting that elusive Higgs Boson.
But back to the velodrome. For a country of 1.5 billion bicycles, some one is looking a little wobbly there? Didn't daddy's Mercedes have a kickstand?
That's more like it. At least by tilting the camera the diagonals will give a sense of speed.
The athlete poses in front of the mighty cauldron of Olympic Stadium. Eight years later and it's time for her to pick up the gold medal, now that everyone else in the race has handed back their silverware and headed for greener pastures slugging homers in MLB presented by Balco.
Are you sure you haven't taken a wrong turn? I'm sure the Champs Elysées has a few more Louis Vuitton outlets...
The clouds clear and Rock's One Beach Per Weekend policy is back in force. As is Mei's One Complaint Per Beach policy. Coogee, Bronte, Clovelly ticked off, so it's time to head further afield. This week's destination - Palm Beach, the northern-most of the Northern Beaches, up north of Sydney.... uhm yes, a few filler words in there Rock?
Mei finds the sand a little hotter than anticipated. That'll teach you for venturing out of the safety of the tent. What next, a deadly strand of kelp in the shallows or a dangerous rip tide in the kidee paddling pool?
Sydney swelters under 31 degrees. The hotter it gets, the smaller the bikinis. Who's complaining?
If you're not on the beach today, you're un-Austraaaalian.
Speaking of hot... In a 100% UV protected tent, one gets the feeling there is just the slightest possibility that the sunnies are for effect only...
And just to prove that even on the beach, work - like the blackberry that is flickering green reassuringly in the beach bag - is never far away, here it is. Three years of blood, sweat, and chicken fried rice, and all I get is a piece of paper. On the plus side, it's not just any piece of paper, it's a whopping A3 monstrosity. Now that's a Wall Street my-diploma-is-bigger-than-yours attitude.
1 comment:
You write very well.
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