As it dips to five degrees of a morning, maxes out at about twelve, and I freeze my junket off at night – all day, actually - I’m starting to regret aspects of my winter-wonder overseas. Yes, seriously. Being cold in Paris and Firenze in the winter is one thing, but it’s not a novelty seven months down the track in the dreary climate that is Melbourne. I feel like I’m stuck in a perpetual winter that does not involve new boots, awesome pistes or hats.
Perpetual winters are like being stuck inside a snow-globe. In Europe, it was also a snow globe, but it was charming. Not much snow, I suppose, but it was lovely and romantic and so cold you couldn’t but marvel at everyone’s tenacity to get out of bed in the morning. The grey just gave you better light to photograph the Duomo in, and along with the Christmas fairy lights and cobbled streets added an extra magical quality.
Melbourne’s snow globe has no snow, no romance, no fairly lights or attractive little couples ice-skating, or penguins or Christmas trees. Far from being a perfect crystal dome, Melbourne’s snow globe is plastic-craptastic; one of those cheap ones you buy your friend when you go to Sydney, and want to aggravate her by bringing back the worst souvenir ever.
(And that’s where this metaphor comes undone because said friend LIKED said tackiness, even though we bought her, like, ten.)
Melbourne’s snow globe has a lot of water, yes, but no glitter or sparkle. Melbourne’s snow globe is from the Reject Shop!
Last night, I decided I couldn’t possibly survive unless I took a short break in a warmer climate. It was an unfortunate resolution because it turned out to be impossible. Unbeknownst to me, and the majority of the world judging by Google, not much of Australia IS actually hot in July – and where it is well, who would actually want to go there? (I do have non-negotiable parameters, including a beach, non- desert, and an airfare that is cheaper than flying back to Italy, for God’s sake!) This limits me to nowhere. Basically, with my meagre budget, I can now afford to go to Sydney, Adelaide and Hobart – also cold, crappy snow-globes. And when I say afford loosely, it’s actually a downright lie, because I can’t really afford to go anywhere. I’m only just back from one international holiday on which I bought lots of clothes and shoes, and I wish I’d had the foresight to see my mini-breakdown at the lack of vitamin D coming, so I could have saved for Fiji or Bali or something!
I am extremely deficient in vitamin D, apparently. Seven months of winter will do that to you! And I keep forgetting to take my tablets, so the only thing that will save me from breaking all my bones is some sunlight!! In the Pacific! Perhaps HBA will fund my trip to Tahiti so I don’t get early osteoporosis? It’ll save them money in the long run! I’ve always wanted one of those stilted cabins over a lagoon in Bora bora – the ones where you can climb down into the crystal blue water by lifting up the coffee table! It’s like Narnia with sharks and pina-coladas! But I’m not being fussy today; I’ll sleep on a rocky beach as long it’s hot enough to do so!
But no, there is nothing for it and I will have to survive. There are no cheap flights to Cairns or Darwin or Broome or Italy or Phuket. Or the Sahara desert (the bit with a pool). Or anywhere with a median temperature over 25 degrees. There is no end in sight to the dreariness. Booooo.
Not surprising really, because the sun is a loser. And it’s June, so it’s on the other side of the planet. (Or something; I’m not pretending to be an astronomer). But I am a very good judge of character, and I can tell you that the sun is one false friend and If I didn’t want it back so much, I’d tell it to go jump on its own head and supernova itself or something!
Oh dear God, Melbourne’s winter is only just beginning!!! Come back, false friend, come back!!
Dear gypsies: Screw you. You took all my sun. Yes, I am seriously blaming the earth’s rotation away from the sun on you. And Qantas.
Amen.
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