The Irish

I can't lay claim to any Irish blood.  Plenty of convict blood, but they were all English as far as we know.

busker in Degraves Street

Still, the Irish festival at the immigration museum seemed like a good excuse to train into town with the girls before going out for dumplings (not that we really need an excuse to eat dumplings).  A friend of Ruby's joined us, wearing this awesome vintage dress.

The festival was pleasant but just being in the city was probably more fun for the girls.  Though I work here three days a week, the legal precinct is an unsurprisingly dull part of town.  I am always pleased to be reminded that Melbourne can be a vibrant, diverse place.

My favourite dumpling place isn't open on Sundays so we went to Camy Dumpling House which I used to frequent but haven't visited in years.  The food was alright  - not the best dumplings in Melbourne but you can't really complain when six of us are full to the brim and it costs $36.

The carpark next door has become a too cool for school outdoor bar;

 and Tattersalls Lane seems to be aspiring to become the new Hosier Lane as a centre for street art.

please do NOT leave your bin in front of our back door entrance

I liked the pop art Ned Kellys in particular.  I wish I knew which footballers and cricketers were represented.

Chopper was there too.

Gen, Ruby's friend, was particularly taken with this little girl.  At ten, she is collecting 'cool, meaningful quotes' (her words) to put up in her room.  Did you ever do that?  Remember when your room was the only domain in which to give reign to your personality and decorating style?

In the train on the way home an extremely muscular man was taken with the girls and insisted on giving me $10 to buy them treats.  He told me he was Russian, heading to Federation Square where there was apparently a Russian and Polish festival rivalling the Irish festival.  As he disembarked I noticed the swastika tattoo on his bicep.  I'm giving the $10 to the Jewish Holocaust Centre.