A MOST IM-PORT-ANT CITY

Oh, I delight in English weather
Just in case there’s any doubt,
If not for all the wind and rain
There’s naught else,  to talk about.

I am at one with the poet John Masefield whenever I visit Sydney, for I too must go down to the sea again.  But it is not the lonely sea and the sky for which I yearn, quite the opposite actually.

“To everything, there is a season, turn, turn, turn”