I feel so much better after getting out of Melbourne. At the weekend I trekked down the Great Ocean Road with a coachload of wrinklies and backpackers, saw the twelve Apostles, proper surfing waves and some two-dimensional seaside towns. I took photos, nibbled buttery fish and chips on the beach and stared out at the ocean. Now I feel revived, reinvigorated, and I’m almost afraid to admit why.
Because it was beautiful. And Melbourne just… isn’t. Fed Square, Flinders Street Station, Crown Casino, the Arts Centre; all paragons of architectural ugliness. It’s all new and sharp, angles and concrete, blocks and sprawling roads, and – what I hate the most – the tram lines everywhere, dissecting the sky, like giant fishing nets to hold us in.
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