my guide to enjoying sydney.

in

get lost in as many cafes as possible. because let's be honest, coffee in australia is far superior. far, far superior. 



explore bondi beach's most glorious bookstore, Gertrude + Alice.



where you might just find the loveliest of green couches, which you'll dream of housing in your lush and lovely apartment. unfortunately, this will most likely remain a dream.



spend a full saturday afternoon ogling amateur rugby players. mmm. hmmm. mmmm.
 




do the cliff walk from bronte to bondi. start in the startlingly beautiful graveyard and follow the setting sun.



finish with a photo shoot at bondi beach, australia's most famous beach. and become uneasily aware of (i mean...celebrate) just how not-tan you are. 




cheers!

first love.

in

i think you can fall in love by yourself.

i did.

once upon a time i loved a boy. a man.

and much as i'm loath to admit it, a part of me will always love him.

but yesterday as i was sitting on a toilet, halfway across the world, with my pants pooled around my ankles and i looked up to see a film advert with his name on it, two thoughts crossed my mind:

1. if only i'd never met him

and

2. the world is much, much too small

the end of splen-da-ta-da-ta-da-ta-dem

in


I saunter into coffee shops now. My heels click-click-clicking against the cold, tiled floors. Breezily I approach the counter, toss my long, dark hair behind my shoulder, and order a coffee.

Black. With room for milk and sugar.

Then, with cup in hand, I walk slowly giving careful weight and time to each step. Generously I tick-tick-tock my hips from side to side. I want to make sure the eyes of every man in the room is upon me. I want each man to see what I’ll do next. I reach for the milk.

Pour, pour, drip.

And then, with deliberate care and a quite uncommon flare, I reach for…the sugar.

Real Sugar.

I lift the unassuming brown packet into the air. And then I shake.

Vigorously.

Shake, shake, rip.

Pour.

Shake, shake, rip.

Pour.

Into the coffee it falls.

My adventures in seltzer water and late night lemon runs has signaled the end of diet coke, and in turn the end of splenda.

I am now a girl who eats raw sugar.

Yes, that girl.

And never have I felt sexier.