You can never have too many shoes, bags... or Apple Macs

The gays love the Apple. I've got two, Steven's got one, and an alarmingly high proportion of the gay blogs I read are tapped out on a Mac. In Stephen Fry's documentary about bipolar disorder, there's a fabulous scene were a therapist accompanies him on a shopping trip. As he practically drools over a Mac Mini, the therapist asks him if he really needs it. "Yes!" he replies vehemently. She then asks him how many Macs he has already. "Oh, nine," he replies casually, in a way that emphasises the irrelevance of mere numbers in the presence of beauty.

So it's kind of nice that the Greenpeace Apple campaign starts from the premise "We love Apple." It's true. We do. And, yes - it would be nice if we could lord it over PC users not only because Macs look nicer and are easier to use, but because they were greener too.

In other Apple news, if you've ever thought that the Shuffle feature on your iPod wasn't really random, the problem isn't inside the shiny case, it's inside your head.

Let there be light

The clocks have changed to summer-time, and the sun now gets high enough in the sky that it actually manages to descend seven floors into a small courtyard and reach right into our apartment, illuminating a narrow patch of floor by the windows for a good five minutes. The irises lapped it up. Steven just managed to snap a few pics before it was gone again.

Meanwhile we're listening to Minilogue, some progressive techno thing that Steven downloaded this morning. (Well, it would have still been morning if the clocks hadn't changed.) Steven informs me that "progressive" refers not, as I'd assumed, to any forward-thinking tendencies on the artist's part, but to the gradual build-up of the music. You learn something new every day.

Grudgingly

OK, a quick post, to get me back into the swing of blogging if nothing else. Got back on Wednesday last week, Steven had taken the rest of the week off, which was fantastic. And he's now got every Wednesday off, which is excellent too. Tonight we're off to Hoyts to see The Grudge 2.

Steven introduced me to the first film before I left, with the result that every time I opened the sliding door of the cupboard in my hotel room in Tokyo, I got a horrible creepy feeling shivering its way up my spine. Thanks, Steven!

I'm back

Back at the ranch, back to the future, back in the day, back in Melbourne.

Bread & cheese

Yesterday I had bread and cheese for lunch – not just any old cheese, but Cornish Yarg, Cashel Blue and the ever-fabulous Keen’s Cheddar. I washed that lot down with a Cox’s apple, the impossible mix of sweet and sharp flavours mirrored in the delicately interwoven colours of its skin.

It’s not like I’ve been pining for all things British while I’ve been away, but I’ve been enjoying certain things with extra enthusiasm while I’ve been back. The sunlight gleaming softly on the leaves. A cool wet breeze on my neck.

It’s partly nostalgia, of course, the comforting lure of the familiar. And yet, somehow it feels that when I start my journey back to Australia tomorrow, I’ll be heading home.

Not because Melbourne is home. But because Steven is.