More goodbyes.
This is Ackland Street in St Kilda.
A suburb known for being cool, groovy, filthy, heroin addiction and prostitution.
It was not so much like this when I was a child however.
It was very much a Jewish area at the time and my grandparents lived quite nearby and I spent a lot of time here.
There used to be lots of Jew's Bars, now there's lots of Juice Bars.
I'm sure every city has it's version.
It's cool but grubby. Alternative but trashy.
It used to be famous for it's cake shops but there are only a few left (see picture).

These are the clear blue waters of Port Phillip Bay, minutes from my family home.
I spent a lot of my childhood here too.
You'll see me and mum in the bottom corner there.
I am not especially tall (although the tallest in the family).

My dear friends Lee and Lisa and I went to see the lovely and talented
Holly Throsby, which will be the last show I see in Australia.
Holly has a particular style of whispered, secretive folkish music.
Anyone who is moved by such things can listen to her
first single here.
Her website has some nice graphics going on too for anyone interested.

Friday morning I drove to Wangaratta, about 4ish hours north east of Melbourne.
It was the last time to visit regional Australia before I leave for other shores.
I stay with my dear friend Robyn at her parents property.


This is a bit of a billabong, for jolly swagmen to drown themselves in.

Farmers are encouraged to not cut down old dead trees because our native parrots live in the hollowed branches.

The elephantine wrinkles on a gum tree.
Goodbye to the countryside...