Austere

Since I've started working with the new camera, people have been saying I've been getting too big for my boots. Well, maybe they're right. Yesterday I found myself saying that I was going for an 'austere' look with my footage. Dave asked what that word meant and wrote it down on his hand, presumably to use for his comedy routine.

Goings on

A couple of weeks ago now, Zach had a get together to officially bid farewell to our shores yet again, before heading back to his native NYC. Will Brown was in town for the occasion, looking suitably slick. It is the look of the moment.



It's persimmon season! What a relief! These ones look amazing, but taste quite unpleasant.



The tree is in the new backyard of none other than Conor and Amanda - the prodigal son and daughter have returned! They're not related! Who are they (and Andy) looking at I wonder?



It's Bonnie Bee!! She is loving Melbourne, and gave me a rowdy tour of her new digs.



Chewing on some mixed spice, lying on the rug. Doesn't get much better than that.



Flash forward a week, and Beatbox had set up shop at the velodrome down the road from our house. Dutifully, we trundled along, only to discover a seething hotbed of bike enthusiasts! They were having a competition, riding around the track, through the mud and over fences. This little 'un was a particular crowd favourite.



A group of us did a skatepark crawl on Saturday, winding up at this beauty in Langwarren.



But the real hot news story was Scottie's bday celebrations at Handsome Steve's. Here he is with his mum, making a slightly awkward speech after we sang him the song.



Penny led the charge on a ghost tour of the convent. I went along, skeptically may I add. I don't believe in no ghosts.



We made our way down a stairwell that was blocked off with a chain, to a pitch black corridor with a door at the end of it. I don't mind telling you, it gave us the spooks. We did a giggle and run, then thought better of it, and headed down the corridor all brave like, made it to the door and heard mens voices just outside. This tipped us over the edge. We hot-tailed it back to Steve's.



Things had moved along, the crowd whittling away and Scottie stepping behind the bar with the proprietor.



Pouring a frothy one.



Not a good pour. That may have been my work.



I engaged in the dangerous new craze of planking.



Sam and Rosie capably took over DJ duties.



Sam found a few doozies, such as 'Satan is Real'. Steve is quite the connoisseur.



Ah, Steve's.



Things got pretty foggy from thereon in.