While I was eating my breakfast of mango, passionfruit, banana, sheep milk’s yoghurt and granola and looking out at the view of the city, a flock of rainbow lorikeets went screaming past, their red, green and blue feathers illuminated by the sun and I thought about my dear, dear friends—especially poor Maureen Johnson, little Libba Bray, and wee Robin Wasserman—back in New York City, who, judging by their frequent sad missives to me and Scott, are cold right now. Cold and miserable and they’ve completely forgotten what the sun looks like.
I decided that it is my duty here in sunny gorgeous Sydney to cheer them up. First, I thought of describing a day in the life of Justine in Sydney to remind them what warmth and beauty and happiness are like. But then I decided that might be construed as gloating or, worse—as schadenfreude—and we all know that schadenfreude is wrong.
So instead I turn things over to you, kind and gentle readers, what do you think will best cheer up sad little NYC writers who have the northern hemisphere winter blues?1
For those who do not know what rainbow lorikeets look like, here’s some hanging out on the building just across from our new digs:
- Short of plane tickets to Sydney. [↩]