Some of the more touching sights in the red-zoned eastern suburbs during the first big exodus of residents were immaculately mown front lawns. The homes might have been due for demolition and the neighbourhood might having turning apocalyptic, but a few house-proud owners were still coming back to keep things looking dignified out front.
I thought of those lawns this morning as I arrived at the gallery, and saw workers with their superlong squeegees giving the Gallery's front windows a good clean. And fair enough, too: though the Gallery's closed for repairs, there's no reason its public face shouldn't enjoy a decent polish.
Still, if Alanis Morrissette hadn't ruined the phrase forever with that sappy song of hers, you might find yourself silently screaming 'Isn't it ironic?' Because cleaning the windows only gives us a better view of what's happening in the foyer.
Which is, right now, still nothing.