The morning is all about the street market - Salamanca street is closed to traffic and crammed with booths selling food and wares. A fair number of buskers; a surprising number of child musicians.
Lunch from the many food carts - sausage for me, baked potato with the works for her; we sat in the park to eat and enjoy the sunshine.
We had been through this particular park several times, but it was a different place then: dark and gloomy, ghostly empty save for the occasional furtive shivering figure quickly passing through toward warmer climes.
This day it rang with children racing their own laughter across the grass; parties scattered throughout the lawn in loose circles of lazy community; jugglers casually dropping pins in experimental tosses.
Even those traversing the park with destinations in mind slowed, momentarily forgetting the urgency of their missions.
For the afternoon, we participated in a local custom.
It appears the natives, at certain intervals, would load their clothing into a ceremonial box they call a "washing machine." After undergoing a time soaking in their medicinal waters, the clothing is then hung on a line as an offering to their weather deities.
Although goodly Christian folk ourselves, we participated in this ritual as a sign of respect.
At least we weren't boring and didn't spend our first day of sunshine doing laundry. That would have been lame.
Just my thoughts,
ps Our new friend Moz informs me that a group of kangaroos is a " mob." I should have known when that one roo made Cath an offer she couldn't refuse.