Took the afternoon off to attend an invitation-only event with a world renowned photographer, producer, artist, you-name-it-he’s probably-done-it. Arrived at the event only to discover that it had been cancelled as the man of the hour had to leave for LA.
So now I have the afternoon and I don’t know what to with myself. Should I be outside? I think I should… which explains why I’m looking at photos of people on the street, walking – trying to psyche myself into doing just that. It simply feels odd not to be at my desk. Not to mention, the sun is out this afternoon, after two days of apparently apocalyptic weather – so now what?
I’m rather fond of the Griffiths Teas Building because it sort of reminds me of the Flatiron Building in New York (very vague facsimile, I know, but I take what I can get) and the fact that every time I see it, my brain goes off into one of those tangents where it tries to imagine what life was like in the old days, c. early-1900s Sydney. And I don’t know anyone who’s ever drunk Griffiths Tea, do you? I know it’s derelict right now, but I live in hope that one day someone will decide to restore/revive the old dear so that we can all enjoy a piece of Sydney’s historic architecture.
And as this particular tangent goes, after loitering around the Griffiths Tea Building, I always end up somewhere in Surry Hills, still thinking about the ups and downs of the old suburb, and Ruth Park’s The Harp in the South, which I had to read when I was at school, and before you know it I’m on a long trip down memory lane… I always wonder how I would feel about Sydney -and how I would’ve turned out- if I had grown up here rather than out West.