Sun's out, Clothes off!

I live in Melbourne. It's been voted the most livable city for 3 years in a row, yet everyone who lives or has lived here will probably say the climate is about as predictable as as the next topic of Jenna Marbles' weekly YouTube videos.

For my mum and dad and everyone else reading this who doesn't know who Jenna Marbles is, this means unpredicatable.
Between writing the first sentence of this post, answering a txt message, and having 2 sips of coffee; it's gone from raining and windy, to 30 seconds of sunshine, to awkward grey.

“Everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it.”
― Mark Twain   

 

 

After living in New Zealand, England, Denmark and now Melbourne (where you don't need a summer/winter wardrobe but a utility belt that can change from a snow suit to a swim suit in the push of a button), I have adopted a "sun's out; clothes off" policy.

And this policy was in full swing last weekend.

Another thing which was in full swing was the toilet door at St Kilda beach when my friend walked in on someone mid-business. What's weird about it (other than the fact that it's always a weird embarassing situation) was that there was a guy standing outside the door as if 'keeping watch.' We weren't actually sure if he was friends with the poor woman caught weeing, but she got pissed off (pun intended) the she was traumatically interrupted taking a tinkle (obvs) and he got pissed off that she didn't lock the door: saying "Man, who does that?!"

We all agreed. Who does that!! There aren't many sane ways to justify leaving the public toilet door unlocked, unless you are in one of those fancy electric robo-loos that plays music and might open accidentally if you go infront of the wrong motion sensor.

Oooh, so now outside the window it's gone to what could be seen as sun or just a really harsh glare. Either way, sunglasses are required, but also is the combo of gumboots, a dress and a fur coat. If only those zip-off cargo pants Germans wear backpacking weren't so unflattering.
The good weather came back on Tuesday which was Melbourne Cup day; so that at least those who were drunken and dishevelled by 4pm weren't damp, drunken, dishevelled or drowning. I celebrated with a BBQ and an epic game of catch that went from being played with one football to two footballs, a frisbee, a vortex, a sandal, a bottle, a sausage, and seagulls- who look like frisbees but don't quite land the same.
And what was so fantastic was that we didn't have to suddenly don jackets, or start digging a bunker to wait for the monsoon to stop. It was even so warm that when a friend 'fell' in the Yarra River, he was almost dry by the time the signs of infection from the dirty water started showing.

But really, last weekend was so wonderful that is makes a day like today that little bit more painful, or an even better reason to stay inside and watch downloaded tv series and eat Nutella out of the jar.  
Then again perhaps not because by the time you reach the bottom of the jar it will be bikini time and you might not feel comfortable enough to follow the "sun's out, clothes off" policy, or your post Nutella-bottom might accidentally set off a motion sensor of a robo-loo and piss a few people off. Then you'll know urine trouble.

Eww.

Jj