This morning I dropped little Ted (the car…licence plate TED and it’s such a little car…should really be petit Ted, given its Frenchness…but nevertheless…) off at the repair place. I’m fairly certain there is a correct term other than repair place, but given the lateness of the hour and the fact that I have just been waiting tables for  7 1/2 hours in very warm temperatures, repair place is as good as it gets. I walked back down the Nepean Highway and then down Bay Street and through Brighton to the sea. 
Brighton, Melbourne, is quite a different sort of Brighton from Brighton, Christchurch. It’s posh. Overflowing with hot stone massage salons and pet accessory boutiques and ivy covered brick church towers and even towers on houses (see below) which sent me off on quite a cinematic segue in my head, I can tell you…imagine having a tower in your house?! Where’s Jo…oh, she’s just up in the tower….My photos take you through my hour-long walk right down to the seafront and a couple walking ahead of me who seemed as though they had stepped out of another era…

 Tower house


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