Selfies, grass and hipsters
I point this out as a status symbol: I am hip enough to hang in Byron, cool enough to have almost met Archie Roach (I lined up for coffee with his roadie), and, in summary, have a more interesting life than you.
This is my Year in Provence moment, where the writer chooses the best possible time and place to randomly reflect how extraordinary their life is, tempered only by hardships like lavender allergies or, in my case, long coffee lines. But did I tell you how even that almost resulted in me chilling with Archie?
In writing parlance