This isn't Sunday. This is the day before, for reasons of beauty (look at that sky and those old bricks - all muted and grey), and brevity. Brevity because on Sunday I'll be travelling. Heading north to the hinterland for a week of yoga in a retreat just down the hill from Mount Warning. I've packed my water bottle, comfortable clothes, a woolly hat, my raincoat, and my bathers (because you never do know). I've got the new Kinfolk to read, the better part of The Goldfinch and today's Saturday Paper. I'm not taking my lappy, and think it will be good to step away from all my usual online distractions. I'm not even certain I'll have phone reception, which may indeed be a nice change.
The picture was taken in Balmain, after a pub lunch of fish and chips and a beer with my father, who is in town for a couple of nights. Balmain is our old stomping ground, we drove past parks we used to play in and the street my grandfather grew up on. It's a pretty lovely part of the world.