Canning St came through

Bit of a difficult day today, what with no green skirt, inadvertently reading about Tony Abbott in the paper, starring role in public shouting match, breasts squashed in the squashing machine (why did they do both? I have no complaints to make about the left one) then coming home and listening to small children yelling and carrying on. On the brighter side, there was takeaway, and there was and is a cask of not-awful white wine which, as Dorian pointed out, tastes just like alcoholic water - gets you drunk!

Ever so considerately, Canning St sensed my mood and delivered again, twice: the first group did shyly offer me a drink but I declined with thanks, the second pair were actually under that quilt when I pulled up but sat up and smiled happily when I asked if I could take their picture and publish it on the internet. My patter is pretty much down now. I pull up and stand a fair distance away, say hello without making eye contact and ask if I can take a picture, then I do make eye contact and explain that I photograph the great things I see people doing on the Canning St median strip and put them on my blog. If they ask for the name of the blog I tell them it.

You probably can't tell this from the pictures but it makes me really happy when I get to take one of these photos. I have expressed scepticism about the merits and the wholesomeness of Canning St on many occasions but I readily acknowledge that it's been good to me of late. I asked Yes/No Tarot if the benign life force that is helping me to find and collect specimens of Canning St street life might also consider helping me into a winning position in any other aspects of my ridiculous existence:



Isn't that encouraging? When I read that I felt like not only like I was Joan Didion and that "little minx" Diane Arbus, but Don Draper as well.  On the other hand, I did also ask Y/N T if I've got breast cancer: