Autumn is creeping up on us. The morning air is becoming nippy so my thoughts turn to long sleeves, even if it gives way to a swelteringly hot day. Some evenings look so cool, others continue to look like an extension of summer.
Last night was just like summer again.
The day began as a warm day that held just enough promise of clouds. Old-time Sydneysiders shook their heads and muttered about thunderstorms. By midday, and all through the afternoon, the air was like a wet-and-warm blanket that weighed on our suits and dresses. It made us long for the beach, or failing that, the air conditioned dryness back in the office cube farm. Early evening saw the promised thunderstorm, so brief that it seemed to make the air hotter, and more humid.
Then, somehow, during the evening, the air cooled and seemed just a little less humid. A sea breeze blew.
Sydney is seen as the glamorous but try-hard counterpart to its more aloof Melbourne cousin. During rush hour, it can seem as though the whole city is trying to get somewhere else as quickly as we can, and never mind the colour of the sky. But, at night, in summer, the city seems to breath a sigh of relief and relaxes – with a cool drink, by the harbour. (A Sydneysider is, at heart, a poster child of a country girt by sea.)
It was one of those magical evenings. The quay at the mouth of the harbour was at its best, the Opera House, Harbour Bridge, and the quay itself glowed. They were somehow cool, yet glittering and humming with excitement. There was a message stick / Aboriginal music and performance festival in front of the Opera House, and then we strolled around the corner to find a quiet corner, where an evening function was set up under the Opera House sails, the marquee looking like a world-within-a-world.
And the harbour bridge sat in front of us, just like that. Sometimes, being the try-hard cousin to Melbourne is not so bad.