In between study, pursuit of work, reading for leisure and knitting up a storm (sometimes for charity), I haven't had the headspace to write. I think I've been very busy thinking which doesn't leave much space to observe. I've also been feeling a bit angry and frustrated at some of the things I I had a fabulous, relaxed break over the long weekend and started noticing things again.
Today I saw a poster in the window of a discount chemist advertising the new fragrance from Mercedes Benz. I imagine it smells like, well, a car! Why would I want to smell like a car? I can't imagine that there will ever be a fragrance called "Clapped out Corolla".
I found this sentence on the internet as part of a description of the fragrance: This contrasted composition confers authenticity and is at the heart of the fragrances story olfactory signature and original yet universal character. They might make good cars, but they don't write very good.
It's been a cold start to winter in Melbourne. Last Thursday was particularly cold - biting wind, horizontal rain, no sign of reprieve. Running errands in the city, I saw the ultimate sign of wishful thinking: outdoor tables topped with a pineapple. No one was sitting there and I can't imagine they would order anything other than a hot chocolate. Those poor pineapples!
After lunch and a wander with a friend on Sunday we found ourselves arriving back to the city right when the big football crowds were making their way to Etihad Stadium. At each stop more and more people squeezed in and even thought I was seated, I had a couple of bottoms resting on my shoulder. We arrived at the Bourke Street mall stop and lots of people tried to make a move to disembark, but people were already trying to get on. No one could do anything, so I called out to let everyone know that we were trying to get off. I got one of those looks you get when you speak in a lift with people you don't know. Nothing happened. I made the request more transparent, suggesting that the best way to get out of the way and let people off, was to get off themselves, let us off and then get back on. Still nothing. I managed to ooze my way to the steps where there were three people standing the steps. I asked them to move so we could get off and they said there was no need. Actually their exact words were, "Come on! Are you right?" I had to press myself against them as I went down the stairs.
My conclusion was that they couldn't possibly be Melbournians. Could they? Melbournians are excellent at being in a crowd and very civil and practical in a squeeze. At least we used to be.
News from my mother tells me that my requirements when travelling have been severely lacking. Usually I'm happy if the lighting in the bathroom does not make me look as though I'm aged 153; even better if I can convince myself that I look 25 and the towels are generously sized. My mother informed me today of accommodation she has booked for my father, advising that it has a heated indoor swimming pool and a small herd of fallow deer. I'm listing that as a permanent demand whenever I travel now. It's almost enough to let my mother be my booking agent, but I think she has her hands full being my editor.
How are you travelling?