Oh, it was lovely. The first night since moving in five or so months ago that we’ve slept with the windows open. It was Rae who noticed them - the frogs from the lake gently sounding through the window - the same window that eight hours later decided enough of the frogs, I’m going to let through the toxic fumes of the burning Brooklyn tip.

Yep - first lovely night and the local land fill catches fire - and it was still burning eight hours later, filling most of the inner west with a delightfully aromatic mix of burning car tires and smouldering plastic bags.