A&A: A Sexual Predator, A Photographer and a Hat Rescue

That title almost sounds like the start of a terrible joke.
This week has been more than a little none-stop and I’m squeezing in a quick blog post while I’m house-sitting for my friend Megan.
None the less, I’ve managed to pick out my awkward and awesome for this week (somewhat obviously on the awesome front…)

As you’re well aware, Lucy came to join me this week in Melbourne.
I’m Lucy’s biggest fan. She’s a wedding photographer, set up her own business with another, equally as talented young lady we went to Uni with and between the two of them they continue to make me smile with their absolutely gorgeous wedding photos. I’ll show anyone who’ll look her photos, I just love them so much. I’m not great at taking photos, I try, but I’m happy with my ‘slightly better than average shots’ when I know I have a friend who’s so clever with photos there for the moments when it really counts.
The business is growing every year and, one of the huge perks of running your own business is you can kind of take as much time off as you want: within reason.
Entirely independently of each other we both decided to be in Australia at the same time.
Lucy and I are the best kind of friends.
I don’t have to talk to her.
I can happily sit with her in complete, blissful silence, it’s just nice having her there.
She puts up with all of my weird, but I know I can always talk to her, whenever, about anything.
We go months without talking, and somehow, randomly manage to meet up for coffee.
The past few months, every time I’ve seen her, the goodbye has always been slightly insincere, because I know I’m going to see her again in a few weeks or months or days. And having her around again, doing ‘normal’ things with her: it’s really nice. It makes Australia feel more like home.
AND it gives me a brilliant excuse to see Melbourne as a tourist; I’ve sort of been in limbo, working as much as I have been means there isn’t always time to see everything, and by the time I have had chance to do touristy things I’ve felt too much like I live here to make the most of ‘tourist time’.
Something I’m definitely going to stop. Immediately.

My awkward this week is, once again, two fold.
The first awkward came while we were at the Australian Open. Both slightly tired and weary from heat, but usual filter (albeit a very flimsy filter) was entirely disengaged. Because I’d remembered bringing my sunglasses with me, and because I wasn’t having to squint – because I was wearing my awesome, and huge hat – I assumed I was still wearing them.
All my glasses are mirrored because, I have a tendency to stare at attractive people, much the way a toddler stares at someone and it’s less embarrassing on all counts if I can perve without everyone seeing.
I’m not alone in having noticed a fair amount of very attractive young men wandering around – by this stage I do believe some were topless, although I could have just imagined this.
As a few of these fine specimens of the male of the species wandered past, I, thinking my eyes were shielded by my sunglasses, unashamedly checked them out. At which point one of them smiled and winked at me.
My hands shot to my face and I realised I was not wearing my sunglasses and I’d just been caught, red handed.
Could have been worse, he did at least smile.
I was too mortified to go back in that direction though.


My super awesome hat, before it got blown off…

My second awkward moment for the week was when Lucy and I were at St. Kilda for her birthday.
Anyone who has seen me in my huge hat will have heard me brag about how awesome it is because it has a strap that looks like a braid that goes around your neck and stops it from blowing off your head.
Turns out that only works if the wind is coming towards you.
If you’ve been sitting on the pier, drying off enough after your morning swim to go and get brunch, stand up to look over at the fish as a gust of wind sweeps into the shore from the ocean, your hat is going to get blown off your head and into the sea.
I looked down into the water, somewhat despondently, laughing and working out how naked I was willing to get to get my hat back because: “I’ve just dried off enough for brunch!”
Thankfully there were a group of girls in the water, frolicking about who saw my plight and swam over to rescue my hat for me, while I stand there the whole time, not able to sound any more British as I apologise for being ‘such a tit‘ and thank them gratuitously the entire time.
I have learned not to trust the hat, no matter how wonderful the braid is.


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