We sat today in a little cafe drinking coffee, of course, and The Smiths started to play. It was Cemetery Gates, written about the Southern Cemetery in Chorlton, Manchester. Oliver and I would cycle past that place everyday on the way to work. In the dark during Winter on our way home, in the cold mornings in Spring and in shorts and sunglasses during the Summer. I think how much I couldn’t face that journey for yet another day, but now it seems very idealistic. But isn’t that always the way? I’ll start romanticising Stockport in another month or so.
We’re in Melbourne now, staying with a friend of mine, Alice. So far her mum and dad have spoiled us with healthy, wholesome food and it’s spectacular! Our plan is just to find a job and then hopefully somewhere to stay for a few months until Alanna arrives in late June.