Amuse yeux

There is little that can amuse me at 6.45am on these cold dark wintry mornings as I crawl from my warm bed, wrap myself in multiple layers of clothing, grit my teeth and pedal furiously along the icy roads to get to work and back indoors as quickly as possible. 25 minutes later with numb fingers, my nose and eyes streaming, I lock my bike to the rail in Goodge Place and peak out from a gap in my woollies to check the window of one of the buildings on the laneway.

Every few weeks the office of Freestate changes the photographic collage displayed in their front window. There has been a gold plated Bob the Builder

swimmers on diving blocks

flags with dates showing when Father's Day is celebrated around the world

and countless others that I have only recorded in my mind’s eye.

In those early hours of the morning when the streets are gloomy and deserted, the window welcomes me like an amuse bouche*. It is a bite sized visual titillation that teases my brain and often puts a smile on my face before I cross the road and step inside the café.

Imagine my surprise the other morning when I glanced up to see a larger than life Lantana latte in the Freestate window to amuse my eyes.

That did make me smile.

*amuse bouche def: \a-'myuz bush\ [Fr. amuse the mouth] 1: a small bite before the meal begins . 2: greeting of the Chef de cuisine.