obviously writing past my writer's block

Dinner is done. Grace is eating her m'essert (two squares of chocolate). My head slumps onto the table, what am I going to blog about tonight? I moan.
What you ate for dinner, says G. He cooked dinner and it was nice, broad bean pasta, but I'm not sure I could write a whole blog post about it.
Six thirty,says Grace. A bit enigmatic. It's certainly not the time we're eating. Especially given that I came home on the seven o'clock bus. The last bus for the night (note to self - Darebin bus review).
I consider that perhaps I will write about how I like to come home by tram at the moment. In the sunlight. But first I have to tell you two things. One is that I saw someone today who had a cigarette through his ear. Not behind his ear, which is not an uncommon look at my workplace. But through the piercing. Ahum. The second thing is a colleague of mine was telling me about her holidays and how last week she was at her sister's house and the neighbours dog from two doors down, which should have been muzzled but wasn't, leaped over a high fence and mauled her sister's dog to death. The found the dog in the back yard, still warm. This is a backyard young children play in.

So.

I open the real estate section of the local paper and realise that the house next door to where we used to live is on the front cover. Or maybe it is the one two doors up, come to think of it. Now my mind is playing tricks and I'm not sure which one it is. I look at the pictures of inside the house. Very strange to see the inside of a house that you've passed many times but never visited.

Tonight was warm. And I'm still not wearing socks. Perhaps we are finally at the change of the season. Finally.

Now, coming home along Royal Parade. It means catching three trams and a bus instead of a tram, train and bus, and it's slower. But there is something soothing about the long trip up Sydney road. I always get a seat and I can read my book or just stare out the window at the sun filled elm trees coming into leaf. People seem happier and much less dour than on the train. I don't know why that would be the case, but it makes for a pleasant journey.

5 comments:

  1. See? Plenty of things to write.
    The dog story is scary, especially as this morning on the radio they were talking about pit bulls which I took to mean another child had been hurt.
    When we lived in Flemington, it took something like 7 minutes into the city by train, or 45 minutes by tram, but I loved the tram best. As you say, people are more cheerful and the ride is deliciously windy and round-about rather than as the crow flies.
    I still took the train mostly though because you can't beat 7 minutes can you?

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  2. Oh, ps. what I MEANT to click through to the commentbox and say was ...
    loved the note to self: Darebin bus review. You just can't keep a good political activist down.

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  3. Having spent so much of my childhood living near the Ascot Vale tram depot, I find I miss trams now. Not just catching them, which can be good and bad, but the rattle of them when I'm in the backyard. Although I'm pretty close to the train station here I'm not close enough to hear the trains, I miss that too. It took me a while to learn how to get to sleep without those public transport noises. The neighbour's yappy dogs just aren't the same.

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  4. My boys love to go on the train but I love trams. I was born in Canberra and we used to visit family in Melbourne every year and we always looked forward to going on a tram like you wouldn't believe.

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  5. The second tram picture is a beauty...but...the first just blew me away, it's...splendid. I love it.

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