Darwin in the dry season has the best climate on earth in my unbiased opinion. This morning when I popped into Casuarina Shopping Square (to pick up my spectacles from being repaired) it was actually warmer inside the air-conditioned centre than the open air outside. Sixteen degrees or so mightn’t seem much to “southerners”, but it’s bloody freezing when you’re acclimatised to temperatures constantly in the low 30s.
Last night “B” and I went to The Groove to have dinner and catch old 70s folkie/blues singer Margret Roadknight. It must be retro season in Nightcliff, because last Friday they had another ageing folkie Glen Cardier. I happened to mention to “B” that I used to go to The Basement at Circular Quay to hear Roadknight perform way back in the 1970s. “Yes, you and Marg are both veritable repositories of the canon of western popular culture,” she replied. “Us younger people can learn so much from you”.
Then she spent the next hour berating me about my alleged tendencies towards sarcasm and condescension (which I really should work on, she thought). How is it that women manage with such effortless ease to carry off the most blatant hypocrisy with a straight face? Incidentally, here’s a photo of “B” in berating mode, but fortunately I wasn’t the target at the time. And here’s one of me blogging at “B”‘s place.