SUNDAY / 30

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Blurry, after just one beer. Lucy and I drove our grandmother home on Sunday afternoon and she slipped us a fifty for our troubles. We were giggling, insisting we weren't a cab, she didn't need to pay us, but she said to take ourselves out for a nice meal. Which ended up being two pints and some fried chicken at the pub in Stanmore. A pre-dinner snack, as we both had plans. But it was the end of a beautiful sunny day, and the inner west always puts on a nice show when it comes to sunsets. 

YEAR THREE. 

YEAR TWO.

YEAR ONE.