Weather: groovy, caffeinated. 18C.
We are Oscar Mike right now.
That’s a military term (I think US military only?) signifying ON the MOVE.
We have dropped Ripley off for her minor surgery, and now have a zippy little hire car for the next two days. And zip in it we shall.
Today we drove down to Sorrento and then on to Portsea. Holy mother of gooseberries there are some uber-rich pieces of real estate here. Old school rich. Completely different food chain rich. Unfathomably distant evolutionary branch of affluence. Even the house numbers are ludicrously high-end. I mean really…who lives at street number 3226?
Why is it that I don’t live in a house like this? I’ve been a good boy. I deserve to be 3226 street rich damnit!
We stopped at a local cafe. The coffee was rubbish. I felt a little better.
Postscript: Actually I am totally contented with where I am living on the street numbers of affluence. I have a sneaky suspicion that if I were unimaginably wealthy, I would be a precocious, self-centred, ungrateful, pompous, entitled asshole. Such is my shadow side.
Instead, I find myself blessed in time and place. And I live in number 11.
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