The past week in Sydney has felt like spring, warm and sunny. But even a day of rain and` wind from an East Coast “bomb” is welcome as it offers a relief from the sameness of lockdown.

A maximum of twenty-six degrees the day before is now halved. I pity those down the road at the drive through covid testing centre, doing their job in miserable conditions bearing the full brunt of the wind and rain.

Then I imagine myself being somewhere like that, late at night, working under the illumination of the harsh amber beams of halogen street lights, cold and wet. When the shift ends, stepping inside the warmth of the demountable for a hot drink.

There, in the middle of nowhere, I stay. After a hot shower, retreating to a private bedroom in the demountable, typing up notes, then falling asleep to the sound of the wind and rain, the warmth of the room a delicious contrast to the weather outside.

I rely on these romanticised fantasies to remind myself that what I have now is so much better than the alternative, to appreciate instead of complain.

Contrast is what is missing in lockdown, why even this change in weather can be celebrated. That what is good is even more satisfying if you experience its opposite.