St Kilda’s is Melbourne’s seaside escape and my best Melbourne day of the three. Rattle rattle rattle on the tram that turns into a light railway and half an hour later, trendy shops aside, it’s as if Melbourne never was. It’s the sort of seaside resort that Britain excels at, but with sunshine not drizzle. Just another seaside resort except for the not very imaginatively named Little Penguin. These normally shy creatures have taken up residence in a kind of man made rockery built as protection for the harbour. I couldn’t hang around until after dark when they come out to play in hundreds but spotted a few hiding from the late afternoon sun in their rock city. A sighting that rivalled apple icecream at the end of the Victorian pier for my treat of the day. Despite coming from an apple-growing nation, I’ve never had it before and can’t think why not. Maybe because apples are autumnal and English seaside is not and I suspect he icecream has to be made and served fresh otherwise the apply bits – and there were lots – would go brown. It’s a theory.
No comments:
Post a Comment