The last week in Sydney has been rather depressing. A combination of job interviews, another move and hideous weather. The long awaited return to work was very welcome - but slipping in my sodden ballet pumps and falling over in the middle of the street was not. My ego, and other parts, were severely bruised.
But then the weekend hit. And Mardi Gras was here! And amazingly, the rain held off for a large part of the parade! The journey into the city from Lane Cove was filled with semi-naked 14 year olds dressed as rainbow fairies, firemen and corsetted policemen. They squawked and screamed and made extremely loud, rude observation about everyone else on the bus, before adopting a 50 something year old man and making him tell them all about his plans for the evening (going bowling with his girlfriend). He seemed rather chuffed by all the attention to be honest! I quaked in a corner behind Harri - groups of teenagers scare me.
Heading through Surry Hills in an attempt to lose the thickest crowds, we ended up on Flinders Street, and within half an hour had managed to muscle our way to the front, as those less enthusiastic members of the audience dropped out. On hearing that the girls next to me had been there since three to secure their position on the front line, I felt distinctly smug (we rocked up around 8). While we did unfortunately miss Dykes on Bikes, we were there for the Warriors of Love, the Catholic, Anglican and Jewish parades, the political affiliations, and many many more!
It was a truly fantastic evening - the atmosphere was buzzing and everyone was so incredibly friendly. I've never seen a parade quite so happy (and not even that drunk!). It certainly knocked Notting Hill into a cocked hat. And to my great delight, one of the Warriors of Love, having approached for a Happy Mardi Gras hug, and unfortunately tripped and fallen over onto me, then presented me with his Roman pink feather-crested helmet as an apology. As an avid hat collector, this was the perfect end to a wonderful evening.
But then the weekend hit. And Mardi Gras was here! And amazingly, the rain held off for a large part of the parade! The journey into the city from Lane Cove was filled with semi-naked 14 year olds dressed as rainbow fairies, firemen and corsetted policemen. They squawked and screamed and made extremely loud, rude observation about everyone else on the bus, before adopting a 50 something year old man and making him tell them all about his plans for the evening (going bowling with his girlfriend). He seemed rather chuffed by all the attention to be honest! I quaked in a corner behind Harri - groups of teenagers scare me.
Heading through Surry Hills in an attempt to lose the thickest crowds, we ended up on Flinders Street, and within half an hour had managed to muscle our way to the front, as those less enthusiastic members of the audience dropped out. On hearing that the girls next to me had been there since three to secure their position on the front line, I felt distinctly smug (we rocked up around 8). While we did unfortunately miss Dykes on Bikes, we were there for the Warriors of Love, the Catholic, Anglican and Jewish parades, the political affiliations, and many many more! 
It was a truly fantastic evening - the atmosphere was buzzing and everyone was so incredibly friendly. I've never seen a parade quite so happy (and not even that drunk!). It certainly knocked Notting Hill into a cocked hat. And to my great delight, one of the Warriors of Love, having approached for a Happy Mardi Gras hug, and unfortunately tripped and fallen over onto me, then presented me with his Roman pink feather-crested helmet as an apology. As an avid hat collector, this was the perfect end to a wonderful evening. 
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