A Golden Afternoon in Bronte
Favourite song, favourite flower, favourite beach - how can you narrow it down to one? But if I had to choose, I'd put Bronte up there in the top ten. Why? Because it's small, kind of cosy not as showy or touristy as Bondi. Plus it's framed by that lush green park with the little white wooden huts. Just eight kilometres east of the city, right now you can have a good two and a half hours in the surf if you leave work on the dot.
And here she sits, a jewel beneath the red rooves, telegraph poles, street signs and renovations.
The waves look modest but they pack a punch when you're in. It's a bit weedy today. The sudden prickly sensation as a necklace of algae wraps itself around my leg isn't so welcome, especially as I saw the original Jaws again the other night. I'm feeling a touch hypervigilant, shall we say. But it's great to be in the briney crash and tumble again. And the surf is a great leveller. Business types, kids, mums, tourists and toughs all get dumped together and squeal with delight together.
This big group are from Sweden and Norway.
Oh lordy, can it be? Is it him? Is it really him? Oh yes, oh yes!
Spud takes his owner home. And every day as a reward for his long wait, he gets his choice of palm frond. Sometimes he goes for huge but today Spud's feeling modest.
These two are about to take the plunge at another beauty and Bronte neighbour Tamarama.