I walked from the nether-regions of Southbank, where the trams were banked up on their detour from the St Kilda Rd festivities. Like all those times, years ago, when I'd come here with Terry and he'd park down here in a side street, I crossed the busy underpass and ended up hear that new-fashioned church that almost cowers beneath the tall buildings surrounding it. I walked on, through the shops, and the crowds by the river.

It'd been a while since I went up the Rialto for a peek. I know, I live here, it's for tourists and it costs money, but it was the perfect day for looking out across the city. Seeing just how big Jeff's shed is. Watching the railyards. The Dandenongs off in the distance. The Newport tower and the Westgate bridge. I forgot to look for the You Yangs, though - if my father were there he'd have surely pointed them out, as he always does.

By 2pm, I hadn't eaten all day (though not through lack of searching for somewhere nice) - the city was full of people, but plenty of places were closed, even my old faithful Degraves Espresso Bar. I sat down in one of those cafe's I figured I'd try when I got around to it, and since it was open, today was the day. People conversed animatedly behind me, whilst I read more of Frank Moorhouse, sipped my Asahi and waited for lunch.

[ go to the start of today's pictures. ]