Fanny Pack

Just to explain the pictures a bit, here's the story.

Charles likes to explore a bit when he walks home from the RAI in the morning. A few days ago he found the walk through the Park, which included that bit called Mesopotamia (apparently, this is the name you give to a short stretch between two creeks when you are obsessed with colonialism). It was nice, so we walked it Monday and Tuesday afternoons.

What has become clear on these walks is that you can commute from other parts of town using a network of rural-looking paths through parkland, instead of walking on actual streets. There are dedicated areas for walkers and bikers, and good signs.

It's a nice alternative, since if I had to sprint past one more group of cranky, loud, complaining tourists I was going to have to pop somebody. The shorts! The sandals with socks! The gum! The fanny packs!!!!

Now, instead, we amble happily through the trees, swatting at midges and talking about this and that (which, with Charles and I usually ends up in this exchange: 'X' 'OMG, I totally agree!'). Sometimes we see something pretty, or funny, or weird.

Take yesterday, for example. I heard this sound. Like water running. And there, as I walked by, on the left, was a nice young man peeing in the bushes!

You can't see that on the High Street. At least, not on a Tuesday.