Australian winters are pretty great. Wonderful in fact. I would go so far as to say that they are probably better than Australian summers where I personally die in the humidity and deal with the trouble of my makeup running down my face. But I’m no fool. In 2 weeks I’ll be venturing into a French autumn and that’s one short slippery slope into a French winter. Now if I were a coffee slash tea drinker this may not be so bad, with an abundance of cute cafe’s and cups of chino to down to warm my insides. But I’m not. So weekends in the park, drinking cider and soaking up the sun are what we’ve been about lately.
In other completely unrelated news we have our move in date for our new home… hooorrraaay. We’ve done multiple drive by’s and sat in the car on the street peeking through the construction barriers. We’re nearly there, nearly out of my mum’s place, nearly back to having our own home again. Except move in day is the day after I leave… boooooooo. Seriously, after 12 months of patiently waiting the universe slaps me in the face and makes our move in date the day after I go. I’m trying to not take it personally but (sad face).