Suits in the city

I have just returned from a visit to Sydney.

It was my first on my own.

I chose this time as it coincided with the AGM of "Waymans" company, and I decided that I was brave enough to attend. I stayed with wonderful friends who allowed me room to remember with delight the 9 years I had lived there. I have many memories of Sydney that are specific to my own life, but I wanted on this visit, to remember Wayman. As I visited people and places I made a list that particularly related to him.

It isn't profound, but I thought I would share it with you. I didn't take any photos, it wasn't that sort of trip. There is no order, and I apologise if it is bit boring, as most of the list relates to things that we did, just the two of us. But they helped me to remember us, living ordinary lives in a truly beautiful city.

Men in suits in the city

Pages and Pages book shop

Hayden Orpheum picture theatre

Indian myna birds scavenging on the streets

McIntosh of Mosman

Illawarra Street

The ferry ride from Mosman Bay to Circular Quay

Fanuli furniture

Allan Border oval

Queen Victoria building

Crystal carwash cafe

the walk from the piazza to the church at St Thomas'

Rihani menswear in Mosman

Little Sirius cove

Rubicor

Jane, Kevin and Sharad

Coffee group at St Ives

Qantas club

the cross word in the inflight magazine

having to "lean in" to hear Gwens' lilting Irish accent

Balmoral Beach

the drive on Archibald road to St Ives

the men who were Waymans friends

Lastly, the ferry terminal at Mosman bay. I managed to be brave most of the time, but here I admit I had a good cry.

Wayman would drive to work most days toward the end of our stay, but occasionally he would catch the ferry. He would ring me as the ferry was coming around Cremorne Point and I would drive down to Mosman Bay to pick him up. There is short term parking where you can watch the passengers as they alight from the ferry, and I would sit in the car and watch the suits as they filed off the green and gold ferry waiting to catch the first glimpse of him. Wayman always looked the same at the end of the day as he did at the beginning, his tie still tied, his coat on even on the warmest day. At the end of the day he still looked immaculate. He would stride toward the car, with his satchel under his arm and always, always, he was pleased to see me.

This time my heart ached as I watched the people coming off the ferry, knowing that my man wasn't among them.