It has been raining since last night and the whole morning, perfect for reading a book in bed. But to work as usual, so have to be content with reading on the train, occasionally gazing out of the window reflecting on something just read, watching the water streak on muddy windows. This is Sydney rail after all, and am on an old train, luckily the limited stops line from Lithgow. Finally arrive at work only 30 minutes later than planned.

Still pouring, in the afternoon. Grey smoke rising from the buildings in front, apparently air conditioning vents. A colleague from the US informs that Sydney is comparatively clean compared to cities at home. Don’t know the only time I visited was long ago, all can remember is Minnie Mouse in Disneyland, playing Golf in the Red Apple Inn in someplace next to Dallas, my parents friends and their children and their house, me throwing a tantrum in some cafe, driving to San Diego Zoo and my first and consecutive tastes of Nachos and Tacos. Now my daughter is eight and pleading for trip to Disneyland except more places to choose from, her destination of choice is in Hong Kong.

How do I feel, still raining, now past midnight, tapping on my laptop about to sleep.  Looking at one of my holiday snaps, plan to dream of life in fortresses in a bygone era.