Saturday morning that was

Picture this: Black riding boots, black and white stripy T, black leggings, red beret, rad bike (of course!) an apple, a patchwork quilt, an empty sun drenched park. This is my Saturday morning.

Having been rejected by my flatmate (he was too busy to have a drink with me last night...? WTF) the realisation dawned on me - the universe wants me to look inward. More so than ever. At first it was disguised as rejection, then morphed into utter loneliness, then a message: use this time to practice and be ok with being on your own.

After London I thought I would have learnt this lesson by now. But it seems I haven't. Because I find myself in a place, again, where I am forced to spend time alone. Maybe forced is the wrong word. But like it or not, I'm sat in New Farm Park at 10:30 am on a Saturday morning contemplating life, alone.

Then a group of people to my left, downfield, commence raucous laughter. It reaches a crescendo, they do three whoops, two chirps and then form a circle, raising their hands to the sky, and begin the raucous laughter again. Now they are jiggling their bodies and laughing some more. This is the laughing group of Brisbane. They do it on the regular. It's infectious so makes me laugh too.

Ants weave their way through their grassy world just beyond my quilt, my hair is blowing in a gentle breeze, the city cat deposits another fleet of families with prams and all the bells and whistles - like little pack horses.

I move my quilt for the second time, to a position drenched in sunlight - away from the stealthy creeping shade of the figs.

A man has just parked his bike and himself on the ground a little way from me and he begins to eat his purchase from the local bakery and looks up when the Laughers begin their cackle, confused.

Some heavy set Islander types roll up, guitar in hand. I hope they settle close to me so I can hear them play.

Laughers are whooping now - hee hee he hoo he hoo he hoo hee hee, competing with the crows.

A tiny bird plops down beside me and begins to drink the spilt chai latte in my basket's weave (bumps aren't good for transportation of hot drinks - go figure).

Park sitting became a favourite past time of mine in London - it's flowed over into my Brisbane life. Now I can't get enough of it. And though it is mid Winter, we are out in singlets in the sun.