Visit NI!

A typical summer's day on the North Antrim coast -

Starting with a stroll in Port Bradden,

followed by an icy cold a refreshing swim at Ballintoy.

Then you walk along the cliff path towards Carrick-a-Rede,

to cross the rope bridge like the fishermen of old - and the tourists of new.

Then back to Ballintoy for lunch on the pier.

You're welcome, Northern Ireland Tourist Board.

p.s. honesty compels me to point out - for the sake of any innocent tourist who may be planning a trip to Ireland - although these places are always beautiful, they're not always this sunny.

Too Hot to Blog

(That's the weather, not anything I might have written in a post.)  Yes, if you would know where your blogger has been this past week, the answer is a) working and b) sweltering.

After several days in the high thirties, the weather seems to be breaking with an almighty thunderstorm last night and torrential rain today.  But at least I know how to deal with rain.  When it was 38 degrees, on the other hand, my body struggled to cope.

Here's Marilyn on heatwaves - have a good week!

The Antipodes

I just took part in a conversation about how warm it was right now in various locations around the world*.  When checked, it appeared that today the weather in Dublin is actually colder than the weather in Melbourne.  'But it's summer there!' one of my colleagues exclaimed, shocked.

I thought this was the perfect moment to introduce one of my current obsessions, http://www.antipodemap.com/

With thanks to this handy dandy site, you can explain to the locals why Dublin (whose antipode is somewhere between New Zealand and Antarctica),

might in fact be colder than Melbourne (whose antipode is somewhere west of the Azores).

Hours of fun!

*Thursday afternoon tedium: any distraction welcome

Cold Snap

We had a very pleasant autumn in Melbourne (as you can see from this photo taken a couple of weeks ago.)  So I was in a state of denial about the approach of winter.  I was convinced I could see through my remaining weeks in Australia in my summer wardrobe with the addition of the occasional cardigan, perhaps a pair of tights and my possum fur scarf (which deserves a post of its own).

I may have to go to Plan B.  As The Age reports, yesterday was the coldest May day in Melbourne since 2000.  Snow fell on the Victorian Alps - which, all things considered, might have been funner than the sleet that fell here.

Shopping List:
-Gloves
-Hat
-Boots
-Flannel pyjamas 

Autumn Leaves

Autumn is playing with us.  One day (yesterday, say) it's cold and grey and Melbournites break out the hats and scarves.  The next (today, for example), it's a little bit crisp in the morning, but then blue-skied and warm for the rest of the day.


But despite the sunshine, there is some incontrovertible proof of the changing season - falling leaves.  I spotted these on a walk through North Fitzroy and I liked the mix of more and less usual foliage...

Melbourne When It Sizzles

The temperature today is forecast to reach 40 degrees.  I confess I'm scared.  Will my white Irish skin melt on contact and leave me as a puddle on the footpath in the style of the Wicked Witch of the West?

At ten o'clock in the morning, it's already over 30 and it's very quiet ... everyone must be hiding indoors and even the birds are quiet.

PS it's not that I was aiming to be coy, but just that I try to avoid talking about work on this blog.  But for anyone who's wondering, I'm back in Melbourne for a few months working on a project.  I miss my family and friends in Europe but I have to say that blue skies and sunshine are a welcome antidote to the general doom and gloom of my hometown at the moment.

Great Ocean [Road] Rain

People rhapsodise about the Great Ocean Road. It's one of Australia's Must-Sees. But not necessarily when seen through a veil of rain ....

Yes, sadly the weekend I spent with Georgie and Stu and Sunday in Anglesea was the weekend when Victoria decided to remind me of seaside holidays spent in Donegal. Watching the rain. Rushing outside when there was a break in the rain - only for it to start raining again.

Deciding the rain had to stop sometime, we went for a drive and I took photos. Of the Hawaiian dancer in the rain.

And the rain out of the passenger window.

Eventually we did the only sensible thing and sought refuge indoors. We went to Wye River General Store - an upgraded local shop with a very nice cafe (though on the pricy side) and a fire.

(Georgie checking out the offerings.)

I chose a lemon tart. I chose wisely. It was was delectable.

Sunny recommends the chocolate milkshake.

Coffee drunk, cakes eaten, we went back outside to watch the rain some more.

Could It Be Spring?

Exhibit A: Kids

Exhibit B: Lamb

Exhibit C: Blossom

The evidence looks promising.

Since I Left Plumtree, Down in Tennessee

Those of you who weren’t lucky enough to have a father read to you from Robert Service’s Tales of the Yukon, might not be familiar with The Cremation of Sam McGee. How’s this for a refrain?

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold,

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The northern lights have seen queer sights,

But the strangest they ever did see,

Was that night on the marge of Lake Labarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

The story goes that Sam McGee, being as he was from the Deep South, felt the cold of the Yukon harder than most. Sam’s deathbed wish was that he be cremated, a wish duly granted by the narrator of the poem (though he confessed it pained him to hear Sam ‘sizzle so’.) When the narrator checks the body (or the charred remains he expects to find), a beatific Sam pleasantly asks him to shut the door because … ‘since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.’

I’ve been thinking of old Sam this weekend because stepping out of the airport in Brisbane was the first time I felt warm since I arrived in Australia. No joke. Two hours’ plane trip is enough to take you to what feels like – not just another country – another planet.

The air is mild and warm, everyone’s in shorts, people are (even now at 8pm) sitting outside bars and restaurants. I love it. I even love having a sunburnt face.

By 11.30 Saturday morning I was in my hire car cruising towards the Sunshine Coast. This was by nature of a pilgrimage. When I had to choose – very spur of the moment-ly – where to spend my 24 hours of free time in Queensland, I decided to go back to Noosa, last seen in 2002.

I got to Noosaville at lunchtime and found a fish and chips place beside the river. I ate my fish and chips

looking at this fisherman,

and this fisherman.

If only Sam McGee could have gone to Queensland for the weekend – he’d have been in a much better frame of mind.

Four Seasons in One Day

I’m writing this listening to Crowded House singing ‘Four Seasons in One Day’.

I’ve had the song going round and round in my head all day, so decided the only way to defeat the earworm was to embrace it.

Four Seasons in One Day is the trademark of Melbourne’s weather. I’ve lost count of the number of times people have said it to me (proudly, resignedly or gloomily) in reference to lightning-fast shifts from sunshine to rain and back.

Yesterday, for example, was gloriously sunny and warm – too warm for a coat. After the sun set, it was cold and frosty. This morning the rain came down in sheets and this afternoon it’s cloudy but dry.

Which came first – the song or people using the phrase to describe the weather? One of the mysteries of the universe.

Christmas in July

A few months ago I wrote about my problems as a Northern-Hemispherer adjusting to the idea of Christmas in the sun. Christmas just didn’t feel like Christmas in warm weather.

Now I’m experiencing the reverse (or inverse?) problem.

The weather outside is frightful and the fire is so delightful, la la la la la la lah, Christmas must be just around the corner.

I’m wearing scarves. There’s a faint scent of woodsmoke, cinnamon and scented candles everywhere (or maybe just scented candles.) And people are doing this:

Where's the Baby Jesus? Where's Santa? Not for another five months, you say? Waaaaaah.

Spring, Cocktails, Cherry Blossoms

Last night a friend and I drank bellinis and put the world to rights. This morning I’m still thinking about the bellini. It is a perfect cocktail for spring and Dublin is having a perfect spring at the moment: pink and white blossom, green shoots, mild weather – sun, even – and still light at half past eight in the evening.

This is the cherry tree outside my bedroom window. Inspired by the bellini and by spring in general, I’m thinking of creating a cocktail in its honour (I could write a poem, but the drink would be more enjoyable.) It should probably contain cherries of some sort but I don’t like cherry liqueur. Any suggestions?

I Love Paris in the Springtime

I must have had a premonition yesterday, for why else would I have posted a picture of a vintage poster advertising a concert in Montmartre? I did do all the other things I planned to do, but in the morning, I found myself turning right on Rue Montorgueil and walking north to Montmartre.

I passed one of the few remaining Art Nouveau metro entrances on my way:

I was only ever in Montmartre once before, in December, and a thick mist obscured the view. Yesterday, by contrast, was warm and there were wonderful views.

By the time I got to the top of Montmartre, I had to take off two layers. It was so nice in the sunshine that I found a little park by the Sacre-Coeur and just sat there for half an hour, remembering what it feels like to have warm sun on your face.

You can see the beginnings of green on the trees and everything looks pretty and fresh. I can see why people get carried away about Paris in the Spring.

They Say It's Spring...

So, the temperature here hasn’t risen above 10º this year.

So, it’s 1º in Dublin as I write this and there's a thick frost on the ground.

Spring is on its way - I have proof.

The sun is shining:

The daffodils are about to bloom:

And there are little lambs in the fields:

Spring, I tell you.

Windy, Windy Weather

Fig. A

Fig. B (taken half a second later)

I know it’s bad luck to walk under a ladder. But what kind of luck is it to avoid being hit by a ladder that is blown over an inch in front of you? A prize for the best answer.

Since yesterday the Cape Doctor has been blowing. Wikipedia tells me that ‘Cape Doctor’ is an obsolete term and that people generally call it the ‘South-Easter’. But if you have a good name for a wind, why not use it?

How do you know the (Cape) Doctor is in the house? Doors bang. Windows bang. Tree branches scrape the walls. On the streets people walk like Arctic explorers, teeth set, eyes squinting as they push into the wind.

My hair looks like I’m trying a new and experimental do (I’m not). I’ve already flashed the traffic on Main Road when I crossed and my shirt blew up. Skirts are strictly for the Marilyn Monroe-wannabe. This is not a gentle breeze I’m talking about.

But for some perverse reason, I like it.