I've spent the last 48hours at Clovelly and for class and style I must say that it leaves the northern beaches for dead. Everything oozes money, as if it's barristered through the espresso machines and blown in on the ocean breeze.
People are, on the whole, very attractive.
Their sunglasses are Gucci.
Their houses are big and alternatively cool.
As I feel asleep on wednesday night I realised how deeply I covet living the Clovelly lifestyle. Studio apartment, expensive routines and a carefree social attitude that arises from sitting on mountains of cash.
I have to keep telling myself that 'money is the root of all kinds of evil' and that man can not love 'both God and money'. I only say this because I'm the kinda person who'd be overrun by the image that money would give me.
But, I must say, it is pretty nice to spend a few days here.
Meanwhile, the Australia Day celebrations were perfect. Chronologically it looked like this;
- Breakfast with Steve in Clovelly
- Snorkelling off clovelly bay
- recording a new tune
- Hanging with friends at Shelly Beach.
- The biggest game of slips catches and later beach cricket that I have ever played. (the entire beach got involved - from Damo' the 15 year fast bowler to Adam who insisted on being the streaker)
- Dinner at Ashes Table
- Chilling back at Clovelly on the outdoor couch.
its bloody brilliant being an aussie!
Andy, Kingos taking a classic, Mark and Hughsei
The slips game - in it's early formation.
(all photos are unashamedly stolen from www.youngos.net)