Last Monday I was massaged by my usual masseur. I always make sure he massages me, not by someone else. He has stopped using hot rocks, which I am paying for and he no longer massages my legs, neither of which I mind. He mostly focuses on my back, including glutes, arms and neck. My god, he was just amazing last Monday. Me who doesn't believe in tipping, tipped him $10 instead of the usual $5.
The feel good endorphins were very well released, but I also felt like a wrung out rag, kind of like you feel after a long session of really good sex, if you can remember that. I have a vague memory. I usually catch the train to town for coffee afterwards but I needed some recovery time, so I caught a train in the opposite direction to Sandringham. It is a nice and short train trip, running along the edge of Port Phillip Bay at times.
I couldn't visualise Sandringham where the train terminates but once off the train, I realised only about a year ago we were here in the car looking for a supermarket. R saw his doctor in the street shopping for something. We had lunch in a really nice, large and busy cafe. Now where was it? Ah, I am standing right in front of it and it is closed and undergoing renovations. I gazed northwards looking for a cafe with outside seating and then south and I went to one south. Oh wow when I looked south. You may not like the vicious bird of prey but what a stunning mural!