Is a dilapidated garment nevertheless clothing?

I began my daily entries at the start of June with the news that my accounts officer's contract wasn't renewed, and here we are at the end of the month on his last day. This morning we had a French food morning tea by Skype for him (because he is French), six of us in three different cities. One was a group of three, who had a plate of millefeuilles and macarons; here in the City by the Sea the two of us had éclairs; and our departing colleague decided to do a little bit of French humour by bringing a tub of Yoplait for himself. "It's French for yoghurt," he said (which used to be Yoplait's advertising slogan), "but it's not, that's a lie they told Australians." As a leaving gift, we organised an e-gift certificate from a ticketing outlet, which turned out to be a big hit. It will be going towards tickets to Elton John's farewell tour. So that's that. It's worked out well for him: another department in the organisation offered him a different job and he starts that on Monday. I'm quite sad about it though.

The City by the Sea's annual winter festival of roadworks has begun. Honestly, they do this every year. They're doing longterm work on two corners, so they're blocked off; they're also doing short jobs at random intersections. It's like a game: Surprise Roadworks! Can you get from the bank to the Post Office in your lunch break?

One of the jobs they are doing on the roads is putting down stripes of red and green glitter. Green glitter means that there's a hidden opening, so look out for surprise traffic to emerge. I haven't worked out what the red glitter means yet, but it must be serious because they always do them in groups of three stripes.