well, i don’t know how it is that i end up at these functions of the australian high commission but here i am. it’s 5pm and the sun has lost most of its fervour. lonuziyaaraiy park is inviting on this fine april day.

‘hello, hello!’ says nadheemadhi who is stuffing her face with a huge australian sausage.

‘my god it’s so hot still,’ says sampaafulhu, glad to see me.

‘must be the heat,’ i tell her, and she snorts. not an original joke.

‘are any of yours?’ asks nadheemadhi but i pay her no mind.

‘ask abdurrahman to get you a sausage and lamington pass,’ says samfa.

they are playing sia at the moment, titanium, and i had forgotten that she is an australian artist. it’s a good time for australian music, the land down under brims over with greatness – there’s sia, tame impala who’s just released an album a few months ago, and there’s king gizzard, parcels, hoo boy the list goes on.

‘never heard of hoo boy,’ says abdu, giving me high five and a spare voucher for the sausages. ‘if you want more, you can buy them at the counter over there,’ he says, pointing at a blue tented area opposite us. so, i pay them 40 bucks for two more vouchers. good things come in threes, you see. trinity and all.

i finally get my sausage, which comes with a slice of untoasted bread, fried onions, and sauces, i’ve chosen bbq and mustard to be safe.

‘it’s so good,’ i tell my friends and partner. ‘this sausage is delicious.’

‘you’ve got mustard all over your mouth,’ says nadhee, grinning devilishly.

i have two more rounds before i grow sick. i sit on the swing with samfa and nadhee and swing it to and fro. there’s children milling about, squealing, adults letting out peals of laughter, a very wholesome scene.

then a familiar song comes over the speakers.

‘it’s HORSES, samfa,’ i tell her. and her eyes widen in recognition. we start to laugh.

‘what’s the deal with the song?’ asks abdurrahman, who’s stopped by us.

‘ah, we were on the train at night once in sydney i think,’ i explain. ‘and this drunken teenager came on board, and started singing this song.’

‘terribly,’ adds samfa.

‘i was afraid the guy might get violent, cos he had this mad energy about him,’ i say.

‘but he never did and somehow the memory has sweetened with age.’

‘from the threat of violence to this,’ says abdu. ‘funny what time can do.’

‘have you had the lamington yet?’ asks nadhee.

‘not yet.’ i say. ‘why?’

‘everyone’s crazy about it, they might have run out by now.’

so i go to the lamington counter and ask the young women there if there’s any more left. they say yes.

‘awesome,’ i say, getting the lamington off them. ‘or far out as the australians say.’

they look puzzled, not the best of lines maybe.

‘so,’ asks nadhee. ‘how is it?’

‘not bad at all,’ i say.

‘there’s a madu in your nose again,’ she says.

cripes. i blow into a tissue that samfa gets me.

soon, it’s almost six, the sky is pale crimson and blue with a shaft of light crossing above us. i point it out to samfa who takes a photo but it doesn’t quite do it justice. how can it?

the maghrib prayer cuts through the air and like those around me, i begin to think of my return home.