Some people go to op shops to dig out the treasure hidden amongst the piles and piles of junk. I go for the junk.
Cookbooks for out-of-fashion cuisines, magazines and manuals for obscure hobbies and crafts, DVDs and videos of films nobody has ever heard of, apparently useless kitchen utensils. To me this cultural detritus is endlessly fascinating.
I gave myself the end of the year off from working a job job. Instead I am up on the northern coast of NSW, hanging out, crocheting, visiting beaches and generally being warm and happy.
Every town on the northern NSW coast looks like a holiday park. It's as though a bunch of middle aged and elderly people went on holiday and then decided never to go home again. I can't remember seeing anything like it in Victoria. But I suppose our beaches aren't as mild and pleasant.
We've been visiting a lot of different beaches. I like sand. Sand is the end. Nothing can grow in it. It contains no nutrients. It is the mashed up bones of mountains and molluscs. When you have nothing left to offer the earth, you become sand.