Melbourne

Yesterday I managed to go to a funeral, a wedding and a birthday – in that order.

I helped a mate grieve, I got a drunk friend into a taxi – once she’d finished vomiting – and then I started to make some long over due amends in a friendship that broke down years ago.

I cried when I told a mate’s mum about how this weekend will probably be the last time I see my Grandfather alive. I got misty when I watch a man welcome a new son in to his family. I laughed my arse off just talking shit with my mates.

I ribbed my friends about the responsibilities of getting old. I listened to a taxi driver solve the problems of the middle east (‘it’s all about Israel’ – just so you know). I gushed about the two girls who still haunt my thoughts to the young lady kind enough to drive me home.

I revelled in the fresh country air. I swam in the choppy waves of the bay. I drank martinis and ate a triple cheeseburger from McDonalds.

I hugged and kissed every person that I spoke to yesterday and was able to genuinely and wholeheartedly say that I was happy to see them – as innocuous as those simple words sounded.

I’m going to miss Melbourne – yesterday just made that painfully clear. Still, all days can’t be like yesterday. What would people write songs about if everyone felt safe and loved and supported all of the time?

Melbourne, thankyou and goodnight. I’ll see you in a bit… don’t go changing…