At least the Kings Cross Markets don’t stream Bing Crosby crooning about a White Christmas, but the ubiquitous plastic Christmas tree went up through the week.
This morning I almost stepped in a huge lump of wet doggy-do – If I could find that careless, good-for-nothing dog owner I’d rub his nose in it. Better his nose than my shoe!
I’m on my fourth week of ‘no bread’, which translates into ‘no bacon and egg roll’ that smell so tantalisingly good from all corners of the markets. But my patronage at the Malaysian stall that sells the best sushi has helped them improve their game (and the sushi), and I now look forward to that lighter option. I also buy an extra tray on happen-chance for visitors but it all so often just languishes uneaten in my ‘frig.