I blame the weather, or the moon. Or maybe even Dean Sunshine. Or the actual sunshine that has briefly and lightly toasted us. Whatever ignition sparked under the arse of Fitzroy, we are undeniably in a new era. Suddenly. Instantly. In hushed voices, the Fitzroyal have one brow raised, one hand on a coffee from Atomica and two bobs worth of opinion ...
This gives me a lot of fuel for a retrospective about the year that was but I will save that for another day. That is probably best served as Christmas Eve fodder. For now, I want to simply show you the Fitzroy of today that, not three months ago, had me lamenting "night after night dry bloody walls"...
