I’m back at the Parade Cafe (aka tug boat), waiting for my first coffee in three days to arrive. It’s stormy today, and already I feel myself rocking as I begin to type. There’s a seabird taking a wild ride on the waves, and the yellow buoy out in the harbour bounces about wildly. Squalls of rain have been coming across the harbour all morning, but right now there is no rain, and I can see across to the wharves, containers piled high, but no ships in, the tall cranes standing guard before the city. The tall buildings look as enigmatic as ever, on this dull gloomy Monday morning. I know the cafes of the city will be full of office workers, getting a caffeine fix to help them through the morning, catching up after the weekend, making plans for the week, or simply trying to forget that the working week has begun.
The sun peeks through a tiny gap in the clouds, and the white tips of the waves sparkle in delight. But it doesn’t last long. In the time it has taken to type the last two sentences, the sun has receded again, the clouds closing in. It is their sky this morning; they know it’s Monday.