I don’t get many days off from work at the moment, so I thought I’d use yesterday’s Australia Day public holiday as an opportunity to begin cleaning, turfing, down sizing and shedding.

I’m moving out of my home in three weeks to stay with family until I leave, so I can save money on rent and bills and incidentals. Obviously I can’t take a whole house of furniture with me, so I’m storing it for the next few years – but it seems silly to hold on to some things, like my collection of Wallpaper magazines, books I’ll never read (and didn’t like much in the first place), clothes I never wear now, and am even more unlikely too in the future, and stupid mementos like postcards, programs and tickets. That’s not to say that I’m throwing everything out – I’m a hoarder from way back, and that’ll never change, but the less personal things are getting the heave-ho.

I was on a roll, when the crash bangs of the fireworks began. I resisted for all of 45 seconds before I was out the door, shoes barely on my feet and my skirt flying behind me, as I sprinted to get a look from Hyde Park. And aren’t I glad I made it!

Fireworks (otherwise known as Pretty-Go-Bangs) are incredible… I love the noise and the smell. I love the colours and the patterns. the ones that start of little and get huge, the ones that start big and “waterfall” down, the ones that have two colours, the ones that look like a geyser. The sound of the oohing and aahing of the crowd around me. The hysterical giggles of the little boy in front of me, the radio coming out of the cars parked on the verge, the very proper Mt Lawley ladies who walk down with a glass of chardonnay in one hand and leading a poodle with the other.

How good are Pretty-Good-Bangs!!??

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