sponteneity

Just a few months ago, one of my school friends moved back to Melbourne from London. She'd been away for years but as often happens with the best of friends, we slipped back into a conversation that had never ended.

I remember how spontaneous we once were. When we were 19 we stopped her car a few doors from my house in the small hours of a winter morning and turned the radio up as loud as it would go and danced on its roof til her battery went flat.

In the past two weeks she and I have embraced some of that spirit of spontaneity (in a more mid 40's kinda way). On a hot weeknight, she arrived for a last minute dinner with her teenage daughters and nephew in tow. We went to a concert at the Spiegeltent on a balmy Friday evening, wandered through Birrarung Marr back to the city and had a late dinner in Fed Square with the tennis on the big screen. And last Wednesday, we braved 44 degrees at the Myer Music Bowl to see Neil Young play.

As the last of the light left the sky there was little reprieve from the heat. The silhouette of the city sat between the gardens and an unusually star filled sky. I pointed out a falling star and Jack told me it was the first she'd ever seen. We listened to the music that we'd listened to together at 15 and remembered bands and songs and people from then. The ageing hippies next to us passed around a joint and as the smoke wafted our way, I felt young. Spontaneous. Free.