In the bookstore, downstairs off Collins Street, I was in the science fiction area, looking for a book recommended by my friend J. We'd had lunch and wandered around a little section of Fitzroy, enjoying conversation and the glorious autumn weather. A vision in hot pink spandex and matching sneakers excused himself. I looked up. The sound of the voice did not fit the expectations set by my peripheral vision. I was expecting a woman and saw a man. He was resplendent, with plumage in his hair to rival any bird during the mating season. His eyebrows were strong black diagonal lines. I figured he had been at the Supanova Pop Culture Expo which had been on at the Melbourne showgrounds until I saw him on the train this evening.
Tonight he was wearing a tight red mini dress with a purple faux fur jacket. Again, he was topped with spectacular plumage - red and purple feathers, sprinkled with jewels, covered his entire head. I noticed the eyebrows again.
As I made my way to the exit, he looked directly at me. We nodded at each other. Weirdly, it felt like we were recognising something kindred.
I took the plunge. "You look amazing," I said.
His face lit up. "So do you!"
This felt like high praise from someone who clearly spends A LOT of time on his appearance. I also work hard to maintain my artist's identity when I'm working in that capacity with corporate clients. I must have succeeded today.
"Same hair!" I laughed, referring to our matching red.
"Twins!" he responded with the appropriate amount of irony.
He held the door open for me and we both went out in the night. I found myself wondering where he'd spent his days and then decided he'd probably been earning a living, just like most of us travelling home at 6pm.
Showing posts with label train. Show all posts
Showing posts with label train. Show all posts
Monday, 13 April 2015
Wednesday, 6 August 2014
Wild ride home - danger in the air on the trains
A few months ago, works were undertaken at Seddon train station in the inner west of Melbourne. One of the undercover seats was removed and a room was renovated. An airconditioner was installed. Signs designating the area as being for "staff only" were hung. I waited to see who it was for. Weeks turned into months and there was no sign of anyone until a few weeks ago, two Protective Service Officers were standing out on the platform on a cold winter's night. They had just started that night and would be there every night from 6pm until the last train.
It's a good move actually. Seddon is very quiet and the streets around the station are deserted at night. I've often felt very alone and wondered what would happen if something happened. I always greet them whenever I see them and it feels like they're becoming part of the community.
Coming home from the Melbourne International Film Festival the other night, I boarded a train with my friend and immediately felt like we'd chosen the wrong carriage. Two men were in a heated, loud argument with each other. The argument was verbal only, but aggression was in the air and I was glad to be sitting quite apart from them. A banner on the wall of the train advertised "anti-hate spray". It felt like I could do with a can in my handbag. We stopped at North Melbourne station and then the train sat for longer than usual. The argument continued to rage and we struggled to hear the announcement from the driver that we were stuck for a while because of a police operation at the next station (South Kensington).
Announcements came reasonably frequently. The driver sounded more and more frustrated as the announcements turned into statements about how nothing had changed and we were still stuck. It sounded like he had a lamb roast waiting for him at home and this was the third time this week he was going to be late. Meanwhile, the two men continued to rage against each other. My friend and I talked and swapped notes on unlocking the mysteries of our iPhones.
Soon I noticed sitting at the other end of the carriage a woman who looked deeply distressed. She was quiet, but rolling her head back, wringing her hands and seemed to be inside her own head. Her face betrayed deep pain.
I couldn't stand it any longer and decided to move to another carriage. The aggression and distress in the air was starting to get to me. We moved forward one carriage. Before long, there was yelling and a woman screaming uncontrollably, coming from the carriage we had left. I wondered where the PSO's were. They arrived on the scene shortly. It was interesting to see how they worked. There were four of them, one took the lead to engage with one of the people and the others stood around, close enough, but far enough. I didn't hear what happened, but I was pleased that people were on hand to assist and diffuse. I was glad I had changed carriages.
When I arrived back at Seddon station, there were the PSO's waiting on the platform. I hope they never have to do anything. I think just their presence should be enough to make sure they don't. I hope the people yelling and crying got the help they needed.
It's a good move actually. Seddon is very quiet and the streets around the station are deserted at night. I've often felt very alone and wondered what would happen if something happened. I always greet them whenever I see them and it feels like they're becoming part of the community.
Coming home from the Melbourne International Film Festival the other night, I boarded a train with my friend and immediately felt like we'd chosen the wrong carriage. Two men were in a heated, loud argument with each other. The argument was verbal only, but aggression was in the air and I was glad to be sitting quite apart from them. A banner on the wall of the train advertised "anti-hate spray". It felt like I could do with a can in my handbag. We stopped at North Melbourne station and then the train sat for longer than usual. The argument continued to rage and we struggled to hear the announcement from the driver that we were stuck for a while because of a police operation at the next station (South Kensington).Announcements came reasonably frequently. The driver sounded more and more frustrated as the announcements turned into statements about how nothing had changed and we were still stuck. It sounded like he had a lamb roast waiting for him at home and this was the third time this week he was going to be late. Meanwhile, the two men continued to rage against each other. My friend and I talked and swapped notes on unlocking the mysteries of our iPhones.
Soon I noticed sitting at the other end of the carriage a woman who looked deeply distressed. She was quiet, but rolling her head back, wringing her hands and seemed to be inside her own head. Her face betrayed deep pain.
I couldn't stand it any longer and decided to move to another carriage. The aggression and distress in the air was starting to get to me. We moved forward one carriage. Before long, there was yelling and a woman screaming uncontrollably, coming from the carriage we had left. I wondered where the PSO's were. They arrived on the scene shortly. It was interesting to see how they worked. There were four of them, one took the lead to engage with one of the people and the others stood around, close enough, but far enough. I didn't hear what happened, but I was pleased that people were on hand to assist and diffuse. I was glad I had changed carriages.
When I arrived back at Seddon station, there were the PSO's waiting on the platform. I hope they never have to do anything. I think just their presence should be enough to make sure they don't. I hope the people yelling and crying got the help they needed.
Thursday, 31 July 2014
Out in the rain, out on the tracks
Sorry about my absence. Funny how the days sneak up and bleed into the nights and suddenly lots of them have slipped by.
Metro Trains have changed the time table. I haven't quite worked out what it all means, but their great smart phone app, called "Notify" lets me know each morning when my train is due to run. For example, the 7:20am now departs at 7:18 because of the changed timetable. Great service. Unfortunately, there's been a few occasions where the next communication is to advise that the train has been delayed. Ironically, it's later than it would have been if the timetable hadn't changed.
Still on the subject of public transport, Melbournians lose their usually excellent capacity to play well with others when it involves rain, peak hour and public transport. As I watched the sky turn from a sunny blue to a terrifying black, I made my plans to exit the building. I finished a phone call from a friend and was just about to take his advice and leave (the temperature had dropped to about 8 degrees with wind and rain thrown in for extra excitement) when my boss stopped me to check in on a few things. By the time I left, it was even colder and much wetter. Huddling at the tram stop, with only a tiny foldable umbrella - rendered impotent by the wind - I found a new definition of misery. This new definition was replaced a moment later as I huddled, damply, on the tram. I tried to wrangle my umbrella so I didn't wet anyone anymore than they already were. Meanwhile, I felt a wet patch growing on my back. The woman behind me was pressing her soaking, dripping umbrella into my back. We adjusted. The tram stopped a the next stop. No one alighted. A few determined people squeezed into non-existent space, pleading for us to move in. We were so squashed that the only way I could create more space was to inhale, so I did.
The next ordeal was negotiating the stupidly skinny tram platform that was packed with too many people, plus their backpacks in the rain with umbrellas and rain hoods making it impossible to see each other. We stood on our refuge, wedged between the tram line and two lanes of traffic. Opposite, a man squatted down with his camera and leaped to action when we started to cross.
My outfit served me well today, drawing comments from many quarters:
"That's a very eclectic outfit". I chose to respond with "thank you".
"Your dress is hitched up at the back, let me just...oh...how does it work?" I explained the complex rigging involved and thanked her for being concerned. She revealed her plan to protect my modesty.
"What a fantastic outfit!" was the best comment of the day, as I interacted with people who are more from "my" world.
Hail, rain and wind are on the cards for tomorrow. I must prepare for the travel odyssey ahead. I shall think of it as character building.
We certainly saw Lorraine today: http://youtu.be/Lw6zjxH9aAk
Tuesday, 22 July 2014
The morning commute - on the roads
My work has required me to drive lately. Usually, I catch public transport everywhere, but lately I've been needed somewhere that would require a circuitous route and twice the time to reach my destination if I travelled on public transport. So I have been driving.
One of the major obstacles I must navigate to go just about anywhere is the Westgate Bridge. Under normal conditions, it's about an 8 minute drive from my house. The other morning it took me 55 minutes! This morning during peak hour it took about 15 minutes to get there.
It's interesting to observe driver behaviour when there is heavy congestion. Some people change lanes regularly as if they can find the lane that is moving more quickly. This is fatal, as anyone who has jumped queues at the supermarket knows. The minute you switch, the lane you were in starts to flow and the first day trainee takes over the new lane. Other people sit right on the tail of the car in front of them. It's as if the invasion of space will urge me to move forward more quickly. This is doomed to failure too as usually there's no where for me to go. I like to keep some distance between me and the car in front so that I won't end up in a sandwich when the idiot behind me rear-ends me. Then there's the person for whom driving is a distraction from reading their facebook newsfeed. Threats of long range cameras, fines and demerit points seem to be doing little to change behaviour when it comes to mobile phones and cars.
Despite some of the trials of public transport (overcrowding, listening to endless sniffing and coughing, along with inane or revealing conversation, delays and cancellations) I miss the main benefit - productive time. While I travel I can read or do something else like read my facebook news feed, or post to twitter to complain about the overcrowding, endless sniffing and coughing, the quality of the conversation or the fact that I'm stranded somewhere between North Melbourne and Footscray.
Today, the car trip to the place I was working took 25 minutes, door-to-door. On public transport it would have taken just under 50 minutes and I would have had to catch a train, a tram and then walked. Not very appealing in this cold winter weather.
How do you get to work?
Thursday, 1 May 2014
Curious people - on the trains today
Travelling home on the train tonight I saw a curious thing. That's not unusual, but I've never seen this before.
The train itself was a model with the articulated joins between carriages. You know the ones? They have sides like a piano accordion and a round platform in the middle of the join. In the middle of this platform, a man stood. Unusually for a peak hour train, there were plenty of seats available so it was a little strange that he would choose to stand, but even stranger that he would choose to stand there. He was wearing a serious blue suit, pin-striped and immaculate. He looked to be in his early 50's. He was looking at his mobile phone, holding an umbrella with his other hand and not hanging on to anything.
I watched him, fascinated. It was a rough ride standing where he was standing. Even if he didn't want to sit, there was plenty of space to stand up in the aisle. At one point, he could have been a surfer out on the waves. I wonder whether he is a surfer and was taking the opportunity to practise his balancing techniques.
The train lurched wildly as it moved from one line to another. The man almost toppled over. He righted himself, but continued to travel in the articulated join.
I stopped watching him when a 50 year old woman sat opposite me wearing a jumper with repeated pictures of Bart Simpson all over it. Eye searing is the only description. The woman wearing it wasn't exactly svelte.
What curious sightings did you have today?
The train itself was a model with the articulated joins between carriages. You know the ones? They have sides like a piano accordion and a round platform in the middle of the join. In the middle of this platform, a man stood. Unusually for a peak hour train, there were plenty of seats available so it was a little strange that he would choose to stand, but even stranger that he would choose to stand there. He was wearing a serious blue suit, pin-striped and immaculate. He looked to be in his early 50's. He was looking at his mobile phone, holding an umbrella with his other hand and not hanging on to anything.
I watched him, fascinated. It was a rough ride standing where he was standing. Even if he didn't want to sit, there was plenty of space to stand up in the aisle. At one point, he could have been a surfer out on the waves. I wonder whether he is a surfer and was taking the opportunity to practise his balancing techniques.
The train lurched wildly as it moved from one line to another. The man almost toppled over. He righted himself, but continued to travel in the articulated join.
I stopped watching him when a 50 year old woman sat opposite me wearing a jumper with repeated pictures of Bart Simpson all over it. Eye searing is the only description. The woman wearing it wasn't exactly svelte.
What curious sightings did you have today?
Friday, 6 December 2013
Lawyers & politicians - taking calls on the train to Footscray.
Travelling home last night I was reminded why my heart sank with the recent news that aviation authorities are considering lifting the ban on the use of mobile phones on aircraft.
Just in front of me a bored looking young woman, dressed in a chain store suit, pale blue shirt and adorned with fake pearls, made a call. She was like, oh-my-god, like, describing how awful her job is? But also how, like, busy she is and she just realised - oh-my-god - they'd be stuffed without her. To add to the charm of this inane public conversation, her voice had a particular quality; it struck right at the heart of my brain - loud, piercing and monotonous. She stared into space and her lips barely moved as she spoke.
She's working at a law firm. Two of the clients are witnesses in the royal commission looking at churches who abused kids and stuff, you know, whatever that things is. Oh my god. She rolled her eyes and looked at her phone. Thankfully she had fallen victim to the mobile phone black spots on the train line to Footscray and the call had been terminated. We had all been spared. Not for long. Her phone soon rang and the conversation continued.
A whole bunch of documents had been delivered to the law firm and they had just sent them over to the barrister, thinking all the documents were in the order on the index, but then they weren't!
The call cut out again. Another brief reprieve for the rest of us.
This happened 10 more times. I wouldn't have the patience for that. I'd send a text and tell the other person that I would call when I arrived home and could talk in privacy.
Just before Footscray, a phone rang behind me and a woman answered.
-
"What? Oh crap! Is that man, whose name I can't mention because I'm on a train, being obstructive? I thought we had the support of the Minister and the Secretary on this! .... Is Lucy there? Well, she's such a B - I - T - C - H!'
I felt like turning around and telling her that we could all spell.
This was the atmosphere in the train carriage for about 15 minutes and it was unbearable. Can you imagine being on a long haul flight for twenty or so hours and being subjected to other people's endless phone conversations?
I'm sure that if you were sitting next to me on a train or a plane and I was engaged in a conversation on my mobile phone, I would come across just as awfully as these two women.
I remember once sitting on a tram and a woman opposite me was issuing directives to someone on the other end of her phone. It was like sitting in a meeting at work and at the end of a long day at work, the last thing I wanted was to feel like I was still there. I didn't say anything verbally, but my body language must have been telling her to shut up! She interrupted her call and asked me if I had a problem. I told her that I did actually and that I probably wasn't the only one. People around me started to nod, so I continued, telling her that we had all finished work for the day and didn't care to sit in her meeting.
She looked stunned and was about to push back when other people nearby gave me a round of applause! She hung up and then gave me some body language to let me know she was not happy. The rest of the tram was though!
I've noticed since I updated the software on my iphone, I can send a text with the push of a button if I don't want to or can't answer the phone. Why can't people wait until they have some privacy and can also be considerate of others? Or why can't they be witty, erudite and speak in melodious tones? Perhaps we really do live in a post-privacy world.
What do you think about allowing mobile phones on planes? Do you answer your phone in public and talk at length? Are any subjects off limits?
Just in front of me a bored looking young woman, dressed in a chain store suit, pale blue shirt and adorned with fake pearls, made a call. She was like, oh-my-god, like, describing how awful her job is? But also how, like, busy she is and she just realised - oh-my-god - they'd be stuffed without her. To add to the charm of this inane public conversation, her voice had a particular quality; it struck right at the heart of my brain - loud, piercing and monotonous. She stared into space and her lips barely moved as she spoke.
She's working at a law firm. Two of the clients are witnesses in the royal commission looking at churches who abused kids and stuff, you know, whatever that things is. Oh my god. She rolled her eyes and looked at her phone. Thankfully she had fallen victim to the mobile phone black spots on the train line to Footscray and the call had been terminated. We had all been spared. Not for long. Her phone soon rang and the conversation continued.
A whole bunch of documents had been delivered to the law firm and they had just sent them over to the barrister, thinking all the documents were in the order on the index, but then they weren't!
The call cut out again. Another brief reprieve for the rest of us.
This happened 10 more times. I wouldn't have the patience for that. I'd send a text and tell the other person that I would call when I arrived home and could talk in privacy.
Just before Footscray, a phone rang behind me and a woman answered.
-
"What? Oh crap! Is that man, whose name I can't mention because I'm on a train, being obstructive? I thought we had the support of the Minister and the Secretary on this! .... Is Lucy there? Well, she's such a B - I - T - C - H!'
I felt like turning around and telling her that we could all spell.
This was the atmosphere in the train carriage for about 15 minutes and it was unbearable. Can you imagine being on a long haul flight for twenty or so hours and being subjected to other people's endless phone conversations?
I'm sure that if you were sitting next to me on a train or a plane and I was engaged in a conversation on my mobile phone, I would come across just as awfully as these two women.
I remember once sitting on a tram and a woman opposite me was issuing directives to someone on the other end of her phone. It was like sitting in a meeting at work and at the end of a long day at work, the last thing I wanted was to feel like I was still there. I didn't say anything verbally, but my body language must have been telling her to shut up! She interrupted her call and asked me if I had a problem. I told her that I did actually and that I probably wasn't the only one. People around me started to nod, so I continued, telling her that we had all finished work for the day and didn't care to sit in her meeting.
She looked stunned and was about to push back when other people nearby gave me a round of applause! She hung up and then gave me some body language to let me know she was not happy. The rest of the tram was though!
I've noticed since I updated the software on my iphone, I can send a text with the push of a button if I don't want to or can't answer the phone. Why can't people wait until they have some privacy and can also be considerate of others? Or why can't they be witty, erudite and speak in melodious tones? Perhaps we really do live in a post-privacy world.
What do you think about allowing mobile phones on planes? Do you answer your phone in public and talk at length? Are any subjects off limits?
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
ETA on public transport? Five and a half hours early.
Public transport gets me where I need to go, when I need to go, most of the time. On Sunday I bumped right up against its limitations and instead of paying $3.50 for all day travel on Saturday and Sunday I had to drive my car.
I worked all weekend and had to be ready to start at 8am on Sunday morning, just near the MCG. As usual, I used the Public Transport Victoria Journey Planner to search for my best transport options and said that I needed to arrive by 8am.
It gave me four options and the best option had me arriving in plenty of time...at 2:34am after a journey involving a train, two buses and two periods of walking and a total travel time of 1 hour and 12 minutes! I wasn't sure what I would do with the spare five and a half hours before start time, I looked at the next arrival time. That had me arriving late at 8:07am (assuming it was running without delay) and took 1 hour and 22 minutes after travelling on a bus, two trains and three intervals on foot.
I decided to drive instead. The journey took me less than twenty minutes and I parked on the street for free. I had always wondered why people chose to drive to attend church when they are right next door to tram lines and railway stations. Now I now.
If I didn't have a car or wasn't in a position to drive I suppose I would have to take a taxi or plead forgiveness for being a little late and prepare for the epic journey. I suppose cycling is another potential option. I can't comment on this as I'm not familiar with travel times or methods for cycling, but I would require facilities at my workplace to enable me to change, store the bike on so on.
I don't expect that public transport options on a Sunday morning are going to be as available as they are during a weekday peak, but with changes to work patterns and lifestyles, this serious lack of public transport must be problematic for many people. Even if I wanted to arrive at the same destination by 9am, my best travel option requires me to be on a train at 7:58am and I arrive 33 minutes early. The option before that is the one that delivers me at 8:07am and the later option would see me arrive at 9:11am and take 33 minutes, station to station.
Melbourne is a great city. Indeed we're the world's most livable city. What must the public transport be like in other cities? And now we are further condemned to languish with a new federal government which stated prior to the election that they would not be funding urban rail. They're all about roads.
I worked all weekend and had to be ready to start at 8am on Sunday morning, just near the MCG. As usual, I used the Public Transport Victoria Journey Planner to search for my best transport options and said that I needed to arrive by 8am.
It gave me four options and the best option had me arriving in plenty of time...at 2:34am after a journey involving a train, two buses and two periods of walking and a total travel time of 1 hour and 12 minutes! I wasn't sure what I would do with the spare five and a half hours before start time, I looked at the next arrival time. That had me arriving late at 8:07am (assuming it was running without delay) and took 1 hour and 22 minutes after travelling on a bus, two trains and three intervals on foot.
I decided to drive instead. The journey took me less than twenty minutes and I parked on the street for free. I had always wondered why people chose to drive to attend church when they are right next door to tram lines and railway stations. Now I now.
If I didn't have a car or wasn't in a position to drive I suppose I would have to take a taxi or plead forgiveness for being a little late and prepare for the epic journey. I suppose cycling is another potential option. I can't comment on this as I'm not familiar with travel times or methods for cycling, but I would require facilities at my workplace to enable me to change, store the bike on so on.
I don't expect that public transport options on a Sunday morning are going to be as available as they are during a weekday peak, but with changes to work patterns and lifestyles, this serious lack of public transport must be problematic for many people. Even if I wanted to arrive at the same destination by 9am, my best travel option requires me to be on a train at 7:58am and I arrive 33 minutes early. The option before that is the one that delivers me at 8:07am and the later option would see me arrive at 9:11am and take 33 minutes, station to station.
Melbourne is a great city. Indeed we're the world's most livable city. What must the public transport be like in other cities? And now we are further condemned to languish with a new federal government which stated prior to the election that they would not be funding urban rail. They're all about roads.
Monday, 16 September 2013
Overheard - I wonder who this woman was.
I don't know who she was talking to. I do know it was a woman I could occasionally hear on the other end of the phone call. The young woman sitting on the tram was apologising and acknowledging her mistakes repeatedly - in a really loud voice.
There was a story about a Serbian woman whose husband had died. His car was now to be transferred into the daughter's name. The girl on the phone had incorrectly advised that they needed to have a roadworthy inspection completed. She'd given this advice in a letter she had written. She admitted that when she looked over the letter again, the key paragraph was unintelligible - she didn't even know what it meant.
This young woman had owned her mistake to anyone who would listen. (And everyone else in the train carriage - she had a very loud voice.) Someone called Rob was going to be really angry and she wasn't sure what else she could have done.
She told the woman on the other end of the phone: "I make mistakes. I do. I do make mistakes. I know that I do. Everyone needs to know this."
Then: "I don't know who to ask for help. I've been teaching myself. I have been. But clearly I don't know everything that I need to teach myself."
And: "Maybe I shouldn't just write letters and send them out. Maybe I need to write it and then read it again before I send them. Maybe I should even wait until the next day to read them before I send them out. I keep making these mistakes."
The young woman had her back to me so I couldn't see her facial expression. She sounded sincere, but she also sounded like she was signing her execution warrant. I couldn't tell how old she was either.
"Clearly the problem hasn't just gone away because now the son is coming in with his mother on Friday!" She sounded alarmed.
I wondered where this woman worked - a law firm? a government department? She is either not very smart, but very sincere, or very inexperienced and unsupported in her work place. The fact that she's prepared to say "I made a mistake" is in her favour, but I wondered at her ability to correct mistakes and avoid making the same ones again. Has she perhaps mistakenly decided that honesty is all that's needed and application to avoid mistakes in the first place is secondary.
I wondered about the Serbian family being put through unnecessary bureaucratic processes and expense.
I wondered about the need to discuss all of this at the top of her lungs on a busy train.
There was a story about a Serbian woman whose husband had died. His car was now to be transferred into the daughter's name. The girl on the phone had incorrectly advised that they needed to have a roadworthy inspection completed. She'd given this advice in a letter she had written. She admitted that when she looked over the letter again, the key paragraph was unintelligible - she didn't even know what it meant.
This young woman had owned her mistake to anyone who would listen. (And everyone else in the train carriage - she had a very loud voice.) Someone called Rob was going to be really angry and she wasn't sure what else she could have done.
She told the woman on the other end of the phone: "I make mistakes. I do. I do make mistakes. I know that I do. Everyone needs to know this."
Then: "I don't know who to ask for help. I've been teaching myself. I have been. But clearly I don't know everything that I need to teach myself."
And: "Maybe I shouldn't just write letters and send them out. Maybe I need to write it and then read it again before I send them. Maybe I should even wait until the next day to read them before I send them out. I keep making these mistakes."
The young woman had her back to me so I couldn't see her facial expression. She sounded sincere, but she also sounded like she was signing her execution warrant. I couldn't tell how old she was either.
"Clearly the problem hasn't just gone away because now the son is coming in with his mother on Friday!" She sounded alarmed.
I wondered where this woman worked - a law firm? a government department? She is either not very smart, but very sincere, or very inexperienced and unsupported in her work place. The fact that she's prepared to say "I made a mistake" is in her favour, but I wondered at her ability to correct mistakes and avoid making the same ones again. Has she perhaps mistakenly decided that honesty is all that's needed and application to avoid mistakes in the first place is secondary.
I wondered about the Serbian family being put through unnecessary bureaucratic processes and expense.
I wondered about the need to discuss all of this at the top of her lungs on a busy train.
Sunday, 28 April 2013
My favourite things...this week.
Usually I write this post on a Friday, but after hours of work, driving to the airport in Sydney to return to Melbourne and then actually arriving home, I did not feel like sitting down to write. So I didn't. Having just finished my Business Activity Statement and a couple of other pieces of work for a client, I just want to step away from the desk, but I'll write this first.
One of my favourite things this week was an early text message on Saturday morning from my dear friend S. who now lives interstate. She was in town and wondered if I would be free for coffee. Would I?! We had a delightful morning catching up on the news and just enjoying each other's company for a couple of hours before I headed off to my jazz vocal class and her 8 month old son became a bit cantankerous. It reminds me that with good friends, no matter how much time has passed, each meeting takes place as though the last one happened only yesterday.
A particularly challenging project I've been managing for a client all came together this week. We're producing mental health scenarios working with simulated patients and clinicians which are filmed in Melbourne and sent over the internet via web conference to NSW. The technology has been touchy and the team wasn't very tech-savvy to begin with. It's been a painful birth, but this week EVERYTHING worked. I knew this moment would come, but I don't think my team did. We really needed this moment!
I had a moment of observation where I consciously noticed myself embrace fear and leap in anyway. I selected my first song (one of two) for the jazz vocal workshop. I'd never heard it before and I loved it the moment I heard the lyrical melody. When the words were revealed I couldn't resist. As I took the stage to explore further, Bob Sedergreen told me this was a really challenging song with a lot of key changes. "It's really difficult. Are you sure?" My response was, "Excellent!" For that I received a round of applause.
My next favourite thing comes from that class too. While I'm all open to experience whatever happens, I've noticed that that is not the mindset of the entire class. There are a couple of people who are very worried about everything they don't know. They want information NOW about things that will be revealed in due course. Instead of relaxing and just being where we are, they become anxious. Initially, I could feel myself pursing my lips and a little voice of judgement was seeping in: "They need to relax and just BE!" Then I realised that this applied to me too. We're all in different places and one of my lessons is to be cool with where other people are.
My fabulous day in Sydney on ANZAC Day was a highlight of the week.
Lastly, travelling home on the train yesterday afternoon I noticed a young man with the piano score for Percy Grainger's "Gumsuckers March" spread before him on his lap. He was playing "air piano" so intently I could almost hear the music.
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| © divacultura 2013 |
What were your favourite things this week?
Monday, 15 April 2013
You know there's a problem when...
It took me over an hour to get home tonight. The journey usually takes no more than 15 minutes, so now, I'm all behind schedule.
Not long after I had boarded the train, the doors closed and the train driver announced that he had been advised not to move the train until further notice. You could hear his curiosity come through in his voice.
About ten minutes later, his voice came through the public address system again and said that there was a point problem at South Kensington. He was sorry he couldn't tell us any more than that. He promised to tell us more as soon as he knew more.
Outside the train, there was an announcement being made to the platform. Words like "suspended" and "until further notice" bled through into the train.
At about the 25 minute mark we heard from our driver again. He said he didn't know what to think. The platform announcements he could hear were different from what he was being told directly. "So now I don't know what to tell you. I think you should do whatever you want."
Titters of frustration rippled through the train carriage.
I've noticed that the most honest statements on public transport are made by the drivers.
High speed rail from Melbourne to Canberra to Sydney to Brisbane? An interesting idea. I'd like some reliable rail in the Melbourne metropolitan area that isn't so over-crowded that I have to travel with my nose pressed into a stranger's armpit (or worse)!
Were you late today?
Not long after I had boarded the train, the doors closed and the train driver announced that he had been advised not to move the train until further notice. You could hear his curiosity come through in his voice.
About ten minutes later, his voice came through the public address system again and said that there was a point problem at South Kensington. He was sorry he couldn't tell us any more than that. He promised to tell us more as soon as he knew more.
Outside the train, there was an announcement being made to the platform. Words like "suspended" and "until further notice" bled through into the train.
At about the 25 minute mark we heard from our driver again. He said he didn't know what to think. The platform announcements he could hear were different from what he was being told directly. "So now I don't know what to tell you. I think you should do whatever you want."
Titters of frustration rippled through the train carriage.
I've noticed that the most honest statements on public transport are made by the drivers.
High speed rail from Melbourne to Canberra to Sydney to Brisbane? An interesting idea. I'd like some reliable rail in the Melbourne metropolitan area that isn't so over-crowded that I have to travel with my nose pressed into a stranger's armpit (or worse)!
Were you late today?
Monday, 4 February 2013
Bad news received in public
Travelling on the train on Saturday morning on my way to choir practice is often an interesting experience. The people using public transport outside peak times appears to be a very different group. It's also much less crowded so when someone takes a phone call, you can hear everything.
On Saturday a man sitting a few seats away took a phone call. I didn't really pay much attention initially, but something caught my attention when I heard him say that he was in touch with his brother and spoke to him about four times a year.
Perhaps my ears pricked up as I tried to make sense of this statement. Compared to my relationships with my brother and sister, speaking about four times a year wouldn't really constitute being in touch. I wondered who had called and what question it was they had asked.
The man had his back to me and I saw his breathing sharpen as he listened. Then I noticed colour rise up his neck until his face was flushed.
I continued to listen and observe.
"We always said that if something happened to him it would be days before anyone noticed."
Someone has just told him that his brother has either fallen ill, had an accident or died I thought to myself.
"So what happened?" the man on the train asked.
"Where's his body now? Is it in the morgue at the hospital?"
This man's brother was dead. He'd been told the news when he was alone, yet surrounded by people. I wanted to reach out to him and offer some condolence or support - not that I knew the man or his brother, but I felt the need to let him know he wasn't alone.
"Yes, well I can't be there tomorrow. I've got something else on."
That brought me right back to earth. I had no knowledge of this man or his relationship with his brother. I still felt sad for him, but felt that a comment from me would not be well-received.
I'd hate to be at a point where a stranger called me to tell me a member of my family had died and my response was to have other priorities. I suppose that putting effort in after death is a little pointless - what matters is relationships while people live.
I reconsidered my family relationships. I speak regularly on the phone, email and skype with all members of my immediate family. I only physically see them about once a year as we are spread all over the country. I speak to my sister the least, not intentionally; it's probably a symptom of living very different lives on very different schedules. I resolved to remind myself to treasure all my relationships - family and friends - and make sure I'm doing more than just chatting on facebook.
How are your relationships?
On Saturday a man sitting a few seats away took a phone call. I didn't really pay much attention initially, but something caught my attention when I heard him say that he was in touch with his brother and spoke to him about four times a year.
Perhaps my ears pricked up as I tried to make sense of this statement. Compared to my relationships with my brother and sister, speaking about four times a year wouldn't really constitute being in touch. I wondered who had called and what question it was they had asked.
The man had his back to me and I saw his breathing sharpen as he listened. Then I noticed colour rise up his neck until his face was flushed.
I continued to listen and observe.
"We always said that if something happened to him it would be days before anyone noticed."
Someone has just told him that his brother has either fallen ill, had an accident or died I thought to myself.
"So what happened?" the man on the train asked.
"Where's his body now? Is it in the morgue at the hospital?"
This man's brother was dead. He'd been told the news when he was alone, yet surrounded by people. I wanted to reach out to him and offer some condolence or support - not that I knew the man or his brother, but I felt the need to let him know he wasn't alone.
"Yes, well I can't be there tomorrow. I've got something else on."
That brought me right back to earth. I had no knowledge of this man or his relationship with his brother. I still felt sad for him, but felt that a comment from me would not be well-received.
I'd hate to be at a point where a stranger called me to tell me a member of my family had died and my response was to have other priorities. I suppose that putting effort in after death is a little pointless - what matters is relationships while people live.
I reconsidered my family relationships. I speak regularly on the phone, email and skype with all members of my immediate family. I only physically see them about once a year as we are spread all over the country. I speak to my sister the least, not intentionally; it's probably a symptom of living very different lives on very different schedules. I resolved to remind myself to treasure all my relationships - family and friends - and make sure I'm doing more than just chatting on facebook.
How are your relationships?
Thursday, 13 December 2012
Public transport may be a war zone, but the traffic worse.
Standing at the tram stop in the rain and the wind at 5:05pm this evening, was not the most miserable place I could have been. Even if I was waiting for about 10 minutes. You see, during that time, traffic coming from five directions converged and nothing moved. There was a free tourist shuttle bus that moved about a metre in those ten minutes.
I was finishing my second day of my new project and I am still gaining familiarity with the rhythms of a different part of town. There are some magnificent eucalypts in the street and their leaves had dropped to the ground in the wind and rain. As I stepped on them, I was blessed with the heavenly smell of eucalyptus. For a moment, I believed that I was deep in the bush. Then I looked up and saw the traffic snarl. Despite the central location which is extremely well served by public transport, I was advised that there was parking space for me if I wished to drive. Looking at the gridlock, I wondered why anyone would.
A woman in the tea room yesterday was talking about the fact that she had had to catch public transport to work that day. I congratulated her. She looked at me as though I was someone who had escaped from a secure facility and when I added that I am an advocate of public transport I swear I could see her fumbling for the speed dial on her phone. She looked at me as though I was Satan. She muttered something under her breath which sounded like, "You're doomed. Get thee back Satan" but given the Christian values of the organisation was probably something like "it's okay when it works". I agree.
(I also made new friends by revealing my membership of the myki customer experience panel. This means I give feedback about the system each week. I was able to educate a couple of people about the benefits of registering their myki so that any balance on the card is protected if the card is lost or stolen. Anyway, when you're the new kid on the block, everyone's a potential new friend. Then you realise who's in what faction and where the power lies a few weeks later and wish you hadn't been so eager.)
Anyway, there I am in the traffic, in the rain and the wind at the tramstop. I did have an umbrella, so that kept my earlobes dry at least, but in the rain and the wind the rest of me was a lost cause.
As our eagerly anticipated tram turned the corner, it was like the hero appearing on the horizon at sunset to rescue the people. I swear I heard music and everything. Symphonic, with trumpets I think, but definitely symphonic. And the tram arrived and it was packed. Only the most desperate would clamber aboard and inhale the air, thick with the scent of wet dog and risk being turned into a wet shiskabab by some idiot with a golf umbrella the size of a circus tent.
I sighed. I was no desperadao. I lifted my head and squinted towards the horizon (I probably didn't squint. It wasn't sunny. If it was sunny I would have had my sunglasses on, thus removing any need to squint. Plus, I'm opposed to squinting from a cosmetic point of view. Although, maybe I squinted because I was shielding my eyeballs from the needle-like shards of rain.) Another had appeared. Tram that is, in case I distracted you. In the tradition of Melbourne trams, its only passenger seemed to be the driver and a couple of damp tumbleweeds and the guy up the back who smelt really bad, but not like a wet dog. Compared to that smell, I would happily buy an atomiser of Eau de Wet Dog and spray it all over. That might be why the tram was empty.
We piled on. I was made into a wet shiskabab by an idiot with a backpack and a golf umbrella the size of a parachute. There was so much water I managed to wash my hands and refresh my face. If I had my toothbrush in my handbag I probably would have whipped it out.
I stepped off the tram at Flinders Street station a few minutes later and expected to be home within 20 minutes. I failed to consider that trains apparently don't like working in the rain. Police operations in some outlying suburb on the other side of town compound the problem. I found a seat on the platform out of the wind and the rain and tried to concentrate on my book while listening to announcements about delayed trains which seemed to suggest that the Mayans may have been right about the end of the world.
I hope not. I really want to finish the book I'm reading.
I was finishing my second day of my new project and I am still gaining familiarity with the rhythms of a different part of town. There are some magnificent eucalypts in the street and their leaves had dropped to the ground in the wind and rain. As I stepped on them, I was blessed with the heavenly smell of eucalyptus. For a moment, I believed that I was deep in the bush. Then I looked up and saw the traffic snarl. Despite the central location which is extremely well served by public transport, I was advised that there was parking space for me if I wished to drive. Looking at the gridlock, I wondered why anyone would.
A woman in the tea room yesterday was talking about the fact that she had had to catch public transport to work that day. I congratulated her. She looked at me as though I was someone who had escaped from a secure facility and when I added that I am an advocate of public transport I swear I could see her fumbling for the speed dial on her phone. She looked at me as though I was Satan. She muttered something under her breath which sounded like, "You're doomed. Get thee back Satan" but given the Christian values of the organisation was probably something like "it's okay when it works". I agree.
(I also made new friends by revealing my membership of the myki customer experience panel. This means I give feedback about the system each week. I was able to educate a couple of people about the benefits of registering their myki so that any balance on the card is protected if the card is lost or stolen. Anyway, when you're the new kid on the block, everyone's a potential new friend. Then you realise who's in what faction and where the power lies a few weeks later and wish you hadn't been so eager.)
Anyway, there I am in the traffic, in the rain and the wind at the tramstop. I did have an umbrella, so that kept my earlobes dry at least, but in the rain and the wind the rest of me was a lost cause.
As our eagerly anticipated tram turned the corner, it was like the hero appearing on the horizon at sunset to rescue the people. I swear I heard music and everything. Symphonic, with trumpets I think, but definitely symphonic. And the tram arrived and it was packed. Only the most desperate would clamber aboard and inhale the air, thick with the scent of wet dog and risk being turned into a wet shiskabab by some idiot with a golf umbrella the size of a circus tent.
I sighed. I was no desperadao. I lifted my head and squinted towards the horizon (I probably didn't squint. It wasn't sunny. If it was sunny I would have had my sunglasses on, thus removing any need to squint. Plus, I'm opposed to squinting from a cosmetic point of view. Although, maybe I squinted because I was shielding my eyeballs from the needle-like shards of rain.) Another had appeared. Tram that is, in case I distracted you. In the tradition of Melbourne trams, its only passenger seemed to be the driver and a couple of damp tumbleweeds and the guy up the back who smelt really bad, but not like a wet dog. Compared to that smell, I would happily buy an atomiser of Eau de Wet Dog and spray it all over. That might be why the tram was empty.
We piled on. I was made into a wet shiskabab by an idiot with a backpack and a golf umbrella the size of a parachute. There was so much water I managed to wash my hands and refresh my face. If I had my toothbrush in my handbag I probably would have whipped it out.
I stepped off the tram at Flinders Street station a few minutes later and expected to be home within 20 minutes. I failed to consider that trains apparently don't like working in the rain. Police operations in some outlying suburb on the other side of town compound the problem. I found a seat on the platform out of the wind and the rain and tried to concentrate on my book while listening to announcements about delayed trains which seemed to suggest that the Mayans may have been right about the end of the world.
I hope not. I really want to finish the book I'm reading.
Saturday, 1 December 2012
Tram travelling beast
I had to go to a rehearsal today, just on the other side of the city. As is my custom, I took public transport. The train arrived just as I was coming down the pedestrian overpass and I ran the last few metres - thankful that the myki reader worked swiftly. Just as I touched on I heard the telltale buzz that says the doors have been locked. I went towards the train anyway. The doors were released and I was able to board the train. I gave a wave to the driver in appreciation. It's not often a train waits and I really appreciated it.
From the city I needed to catch a tram. As I approached the tram stop a man wearing nothing but tattoos and a low slung backpack on his torso cut across my path, yelling at someone for not listening to him. He continued his tirade to anyone and no one cutting a furious path through the Saturday afternoon crowd. I lost sight of him and then he was back on the tram stop. He jumped onto the tracks and kicked one of the little sparrows high into the air and into traffic. I was shocked at his random cruelty. The people at the stop took a collective breath and withdrew into themselves. It seemed best not to be noticed by this man.
My tram arrived and I was disappointed to see him board. He roamed around the train screaming about "real heroin dealers", his $700 a day habit and the fact he had wanted to attend his parents' funeral. He was certain that if he'd been from overseas he would have been allowed to attend, but now he couldn't go because "they" had taken all his money.
There was no pause.
The security guards at an unspecified shop were his next target. They were gutless and "won't fight you one on one", but that's okay because "I'll find out where he lives and blow his house up". He then sat down in front of one of the doors and proceeded to investigate a wound on his leg. He exclaimed about the fact that he seemed to be living on top of a mosquito nest and counted the bites on his legs.
His anger never subsided. His invective became more ferocious. People boarding the tram quickly moved to another door. Grandmothers clutched toddlers to them, old men looked on in disgust and puzzlement and the rest of us desperately avoided eye contact.
At one stop a man who looked like he might have similar problems boarded and came face to face with the shirtless man. They both looked at each other, said nothing and retreated to opposite ends of the tram. There was another collective breath.
I was very pleased when my the tram arrived at my stop. I was still thinking about that poor, innocent little sparrow which had been brutalised and hopped that was the end of his work today. With the lack of conductors on Melbourne trams there is no one to deal with people like this and it makes the trip unpleasant for everyone else. On top of that, he didn't appear to have a ticket.
From the city I needed to catch a tram. As I approached the tram stop a man wearing nothing but tattoos and a low slung backpack on his torso cut across my path, yelling at someone for not listening to him. He continued his tirade to anyone and no one cutting a furious path through the Saturday afternoon crowd. I lost sight of him and then he was back on the tram stop. He jumped onto the tracks and kicked one of the little sparrows high into the air and into traffic. I was shocked at his random cruelty. The people at the stop took a collective breath and withdrew into themselves. It seemed best not to be noticed by this man.
My tram arrived and I was disappointed to see him board. He roamed around the train screaming about "real heroin dealers", his $700 a day habit and the fact he had wanted to attend his parents' funeral. He was certain that if he'd been from overseas he would have been allowed to attend, but now he couldn't go because "they" had taken all his money.
There was no pause.
The security guards at an unspecified shop were his next target. They were gutless and "won't fight you one on one", but that's okay because "I'll find out where he lives and blow his house up". He then sat down in front of one of the doors and proceeded to investigate a wound on his leg. He exclaimed about the fact that he seemed to be living on top of a mosquito nest and counted the bites on his legs.
His anger never subsided. His invective became more ferocious. People boarding the tram quickly moved to another door. Grandmothers clutched toddlers to them, old men looked on in disgust and puzzlement and the rest of us desperately avoided eye contact.
At one stop a man who looked like he might have similar problems boarded and came face to face with the shirtless man. They both looked at each other, said nothing and retreated to opposite ends of the tram. There was another collective breath.
I was very pleased when my the tram arrived at my stop. I was still thinking about that poor, innocent little sparrow which had been brutalised and hopped that was the end of his work today. With the lack of conductors on Melbourne trams there is no one to deal with people like this and it makes the trip unpleasant for everyone else. On top of that, he didn't appear to have a ticket.
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
Travelling musician brings joy to travellers (+giveaway)
I stepped into a train carriage travelling into the city the other day and saw a group of high school children sitting in a group an intensely talking amongst themselves. I took a seat nearby. Soon music started to fill the air. Usually when this happens, I move. It's generally someone listening to an ipod with the volume set far too loudly so that the sound bleeds through their earphones; or it's someone listening to music without even the courtesy of using headphones.
This was different though. It was good music and it was being played live. There was someone playing the guitar, who was very, very good. There was an air of quiet appreciation from the people sitting with him as his artistry gave pleasure. I didn't recognise the music but did recognise a musician with rhythm who communicates through his instrument. He finished one piece and then started something familiar. His fans clicked their fingers crisply at regular intervals. He was playing the theme from the "Pink Panther". I've never heard it played on the guitar before and he made me wonder why I had never had the pleasure.
We pulled into North Melbourne Station and I turned around to see him and acknowledge him. He had only one friend left sitting with him and he was playing with intention and joy. He looked up as I turned around. Our eyes met and we acknowledged each other - I was acknowledging the gift of his music and he acknowledged the gift of my appreciation.
He finished the piece and I applauded. Others on the train looked up and smiled, but didn't join me in applause.
This young man was a pleasure to hear. I may never hear him play again. I don't know his name, but I'm sure I would recognise his playing if I heard him again. I really hope I do hear his music again.
On another note, here is the sugar laden afternoon tea that I resisted when working with a client today. In the fourth week of sugar-free life, I am very pleased to say that I wasn't even tempted! I was, however, very hungry and will take an alternative snack with me tomorrow.
GIVEAWAY:
TO WIN a double pass to see "2 Days in New York" comment on this post, telling us where you'd like to spend two days and why. Entries close next Friday, 30 November. Winners will be announced on the blog. Don't forget to check back and see if you've won - you'll need to provide your mailing address details.
Passes are valid during the season in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Adelaide and the ACT.
Good luck!
This was different though. It was good music and it was being played live. There was someone playing the guitar, who was very, very good. There was an air of quiet appreciation from the people sitting with him as his artistry gave pleasure. I didn't recognise the music but did recognise a musician with rhythm who communicates through his instrument. He finished one piece and then started something familiar. His fans clicked their fingers crisply at regular intervals. He was playing the theme from the "Pink Panther". I've never heard it played on the guitar before and he made me wonder why I had never had the pleasure.
We pulled into North Melbourne Station and I turned around to see him and acknowledge him. He had only one friend left sitting with him and he was playing with intention and joy. He looked up as I turned around. Our eyes met and we acknowledged each other - I was acknowledging the gift of his music and he acknowledged the gift of my appreciation.
He finished the piece and I applauded. Others on the train looked up and smiled, but didn't join me in applause.
This young man was a pleasure to hear. I may never hear him play again. I don't know his name, but I'm sure I would recognise his playing if I heard him again. I really hope I do hear his music again.
On another note, here is the sugar laden afternoon tea that I resisted when working with a client today. In the fourth week of sugar-free life, I am very pleased to say that I wasn't even tempted! I was, however, very hungry and will take an alternative snack with me tomorrow.
GIVEAWAY:
TO WIN a double pass to see "2 Days in New York" comment on this post, telling us where you'd like to spend two days and why. Entries close next Friday, 30 November. Winners will be announced on the blog. Don't forget to check back and see if you've won - you'll need to provide your mailing address details.
Passes are valid during the season in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Adelaide and the ACT.
Good luck!
Saturday, 24 November 2012
Music, food and laughter cancel out train trauma
For the first time in a while, I woke up hours before the alarm. The sun was coming in my window and I felt well rested. I had time to lie in bed and think. Read. Consider the day ahead. I was hours ahead of schedule. I had an all day vocal group rehearsal today and had to make the salad I was taking for lunch (sugar free, of course) and be ready to catch the train at 9:38am.
I proceeded at a leisurely pace and was ready to enjoy the walk to the train station. I arrived with about five minutes to spare. There seemed to be more people there than usual for that time on a Saturday morning, but I figured everyone had woken up to the glorious day in the same way I had. All of us were running ahead of schedule, except for the trains.
The automated timetable announcement proclaimed at about 9:35 that the 9:18am train would be departing in about six minutes. The one I was there to catch, the 9:38am - was about 17 minutes away. Oh well, I'd catch an earlier train and leave later than I anticipated. Only Metro trains could make that happen.
A few minutes passed and a manual announcement was made, advising that due to something-or-other, all trains had been suspended until further notice. When you're at an unstaffed station, this is the most frustrating kind of announcement. No details are given about alternative services and there is no one to ask.
Luckily I hadn't been waiting for that long, so I was still within the window to be able to touch off my myki and not be billed for a trip I wasn't going to take. I made my way back home and started my car.
It's so annoying to be forced onto the road when you're committed to public transport and try not to clog up the streets with one person car trips that could otherwise be taken on public transport. And on the weekends, the price of travel is capped at $3.30 for the day, so it really is better than taking the car. At least I have a car and could easily take alternative transport to get to my rehearsal. In Melbourne's western suburbs, if the trains go down, there aren't a lot of other options.
While I missed my reading time, I did enjoy the airconditioning and radio discussion about the colour of a kitten's fur being a big factor in determining whether it will have a home or have to be destroyed. (Black cats aren't really agents of Satan you know.)
We had a great rehearsal and one of those wonderful shared lunches where people generously provide food and it all works together to be a bountiful and delicious meal, made better by good company and the sharing of music.
One of my fellow singers confided in me that she had misread my recent blog post about my discovery of the television show "Survivor". When I wrote that I'm "hooked" on the show, she read it as "booked". She suddenly saw me in a whole new light. We both thought this was very funny. I concluded that I'd be able to play a great social game, but would be a waste of time in the physical challenges. I'd have to make everyone love me enough not to care.
I drove home and spent the rest of the afternoon at the piano. A great way to spend Saturday.
GIVEAWAY:
TO WIN a double passto see "2 Days in New York" comment on this post, telling us where you'd like to spend two days and why. Entries close next Friday, 30 November. Winners will be announced on the blog. Don't forget to check back and see if you've won - you'll need to provide your mailing address details.
Passes are valid during the season in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Adelaide and the ACT.
Good luck!
I proceeded at a leisurely pace and was ready to enjoy the walk to the train station. I arrived with about five minutes to spare. There seemed to be more people there than usual for that time on a Saturday morning, but I figured everyone had woken up to the glorious day in the same way I had. All of us were running ahead of schedule, except for the trains.
The automated timetable announcement proclaimed at about 9:35 that the 9:18am train would be departing in about six minutes. The one I was there to catch, the 9:38am - was about 17 minutes away. Oh well, I'd catch an earlier train and leave later than I anticipated. Only Metro trains could make that happen.
A few minutes passed and a manual announcement was made, advising that due to something-or-other, all trains had been suspended until further notice. When you're at an unstaffed station, this is the most frustrating kind of announcement. No details are given about alternative services and there is no one to ask.
Luckily I hadn't been waiting for that long, so I was still within the window to be able to touch off my myki and not be billed for a trip I wasn't going to take. I made my way back home and started my car.
It's so annoying to be forced onto the road when you're committed to public transport and try not to clog up the streets with one person car trips that could otherwise be taken on public transport. And on the weekends, the price of travel is capped at $3.30 for the day, so it really is better than taking the car. At least I have a car and could easily take alternative transport to get to my rehearsal. In Melbourne's western suburbs, if the trains go down, there aren't a lot of other options.
While I missed my reading time, I did enjoy the airconditioning and radio discussion about the colour of a kitten's fur being a big factor in determining whether it will have a home or have to be destroyed. (Black cats aren't really agents of Satan you know.)
We had a great rehearsal and one of those wonderful shared lunches where people generously provide food and it all works together to be a bountiful and delicious meal, made better by good company and the sharing of music.
One of my fellow singers confided in me that she had misread my recent blog post about my discovery of the television show "Survivor". When I wrote that I'm "hooked" on the show, she read it as "booked". She suddenly saw me in a whole new light. We both thought this was very funny. I concluded that I'd be able to play a great social game, but would be a waste of time in the physical challenges. I'd have to make everyone love me enough not to care.
I drove home and spent the rest of the afternoon at the piano. A great way to spend Saturday.
GIVEAWAY:
TO WIN a double passto see "2 Days in New York" comment on this post, telling us where you'd like to spend two days and why. Entries close next Friday, 30 November. Winners will be announced on the blog. Don't forget to check back and see if you've won - you'll need to provide your mailing address details.
Passes are valid during the season in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast, Adelaide and the ACT.
Good luck!
Saturday, 17 November 2012
Train driver of the year
As the train approached North Melbourne station, the public address system crackled to life. My heart sank. This would surely mean a delay.
A friendly, blokey voice cheerfully greeted us: "Good morning passengers! Isn't it a glorious day out there? A bit of a shame if you have to go inside to work, but I'll get you there."
We looked up, eyes met and there were smiles and a few chuckles. Others noticed the ripple and removed their ear phones. There was no bad news about delays.
He continued, as though in conversation with all of us.
"Hey, you know how they are talking about all the cuts to the defence force budgets? Well I read that in response, the navy has started to subsidise their own operations. You wouldn't believe it, but they're growing oranges! I know! I couldn't believe it either. Seems a bit strange, but I did read it on the sticker. It was stuck to the orange I was eating. Said it was naval. So there you go, you learn something every day. It's an amazing world."
Laughter rippled around the carriage. We settled back to our books and phones and music.
The speaker crackled to life again.
"I've heard reports about trouble with points around North Melbourne station this morning. Some of you might have heard about them too. So before I left Williamstown I rang up to check how things were going. They said that it's been fixed, but here we are sneaking in to North Melbourne because I'm getting signals to slow down. So we'll see how we go. Hopefully there won't be too much of a delay. And to that fella in the first carriage, I haven't forgotten about you."
I was travelling in the front carriage and there was a man in a wheelchair. He was nodding and smiling in response. He was clearly "that fella" who would need assistance to disembark.
We pulled into North Melbourne station about a minute later. The man in the wheelchair was greeted by the train driver. He looked exactly as I imagined him - greying hair, big smile, humorous outlook and what seemed to be love of his job and love of other people.
I enjoyed the interaction immensely. I hope to be taken to town or taken home by this man again.
A friendly, blokey voice cheerfully greeted us: "Good morning passengers! Isn't it a glorious day out there? A bit of a shame if you have to go inside to work, but I'll get you there."
We looked up, eyes met and there were smiles and a few chuckles. Others noticed the ripple and removed their ear phones. There was no bad news about delays.
He continued, as though in conversation with all of us.
"Hey, you know how they are talking about all the cuts to the defence force budgets? Well I read that in response, the navy has started to subsidise their own operations. You wouldn't believe it, but they're growing oranges! I know! I couldn't believe it either. Seems a bit strange, but I did read it on the sticker. It was stuck to the orange I was eating. Said it was naval. So there you go, you learn something every day. It's an amazing world."
Laughter rippled around the carriage. We settled back to our books and phones and music.
The speaker crackled to life again.
"I've heard reports about trouble with points around North Melbourne station this morning. Some of you might have heard about them too. So before I left Williamstown I rang up to check how things were going. They said that it's been fixed, but here we are sneaking in to North Melbourne because I'm getting signals to slow down. So we'll see how we go. Hopefully there won't be too much of a delay. And to that fella in the first carriage, I haven't forgotten about you."
I was travelling in the front carriage and there was a man in a wheelchair. He was nodding and smiling in response. He was clearly "that fella" who would need assistance to disembark.
We pulled into North Melbourne station about a minute later. The man in the wheelchair was greeted by the train driver. He looked exactly as I imagined him - greying hair, big smile, humorous outlook and what seemed to be love of his job and love of other people.
I enjoyed the interaction immensely. I hope to be taken to town or taken home by this man again.
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
On the trains in Melbourne
There are a lot of uniformed personnel on and around Melbourne's trains at the moment. On the trains themselves, none of them are conductors, or people whose sole focus is to assist the travelling public. Around stations there are many people who have this focus. Here's what I've noticed this week.
Yesterday I was travelling to the city just before noon. At Footscray station three Authorised Officers boarded the carriage in which I was travelling. They each carried a hand held myki reader and their purpose was to check that every traveller had a valid ticket. I haven't had a lot to do with Authorised Officers, but I have read some bad reports so I watched with interest as they went about their work.
The two men and one woman looked smart in their uniforms and had an air of congeniality about them as they interacted within themselves. I heard that the passenger behind me was very politely asked for his myki. The ticket was checked and they moved on to me. This time I was acknowledged with a friendly greeting and a polite request for my myki. As it showed my ticket as valid I was thanked and wished a good day. The interaction was quick, polite and pleasant. I wondered what would happen if - when - they encountered a fare evader.
As an afterthought to our conversation I mentioned that one of the myki readers at Seddon station was faulty and gave details. They made a note and thanked me for the information. That saved me a phone call. (My station is an unstaffed station, so unless members of the community take responsibility for reporting equipment failures, problems can be left unaddressed for a long time.)
Further forward in the carriage, one of the two men was in a longer discussion with a male and female passenger who appeared to be travelling together. I couldn't hear what was being said, but the body language suggested that there was a problem. The level of engagement still looked polite and friendly from a distance. It was my stop, so I wasn't able to observe this conversation for very long.
If every Authorised Officer goes about their work as this trio did, then they are excellent ambassadors for their organisation. (I'm not actually sure for whom they work.) With this kind of outlook the Authorised Officers are in a great position to educate the travelling public, rather than taking a punitive approach which focusses on "catching people".
From the train I went to the tram stop. Two aqua clad myki mates were talking to each other. As soon as passengers arrived at the tram stop, they approached each person at the stop to see if they had any questions about myki. Again, I was impressed with their friendly demeanour and proactive approach to engage with the travelling public, rather than waiting to be approached.
At the end of the day I was back at Flinders Street Station for my journey home. One of the signs in the pedestrian subway entrance (under Elizabeth Street) was impossible to read because of a combination of poorly placed lighting and a screen malfunction. The sign contained departure information for four lines, so was pretty important. There was one person staffing the gates so I asked him if anyone had given him feedback about the sign. He said no and walked towards me. I pointed out the problem and he thanked me for letting him know. He said that he never looks at the sign and that it was impossible to read. He walked back to his post and made a note. Again, he was proactive and interested in helping the travelling public.
I will admit that I was expecting a shrug of the shoulders and a "promise" to do something without any intention. I was pleasantly surprised. It will be interesting to see what action is taken in response to this feedback.
By contrast, as I walked across the main concourse at Flinders Street station this evening on my way home, I followed five Protective Services Officers. They were an intimidating pack with their sunglasses (reflective?) and police-like outfits. They were all men and their body language radiated authority. They were going to the same platform as me and when I saw them looking around with purpose, I suddenly felt nervous.
Why?
A story from Malcolm Gladwell's book, "Blink" sprang to mind. He talks about police behaviour. In one police district in the US police brutality and police shootings occurred more often when police worked in pairs or bigger groups. They switched to police working solo and saw a drop in these kinds of incidents. The decrease was attributed to less instinctive, "blink of an eye" decision-making when police worked alone. In this situation they were more likely to be cautious, wait for backup and not act in a way that escalated encounters. (This is a very short summary, so read the book for the whole picture.) Observing this group of Protective Services Officers brought this story to life at that moment.
I think it is good to send a message about safety on public transport, especially the trains and especially outside peak times. As a committed, frequent and female public transport user, it is very important to me to be confident that I can travel safely. I wonder if these intimidating men, presented as pseudo-police is really the way to achieve this?
So despite a crawl into the city this morning and a message yesterday telling me the service I had planned my day around "will not run", overall, I'm feeling a little more positive about the attitude of our public transport operators towards me, the travelling public.
How do you feel about public transport? Do you use it? Why? Why not?
Yesterday I was travelling to the city just before noon. At Footscray station three Authorised Officers boarded the carriage in which I was travelling. They each carried a hand held myki reader and their purpose was to check that every traveller had a valid ticket. I haven't had a lot to do with Authorised Officers, but I have read some bad reports so I watched with interest as they went about their work.
The two men and one woman looked smart in their uniforms and had an air of congeniality about them as they interacted within themselves. I heard that the passenger behind me was very politely asked for his myki. The ticket was checked and they moved on to me. This time I was acknowledged with a friendly greeting and a polite request for my myki. As it showed my ticket as valid I was thanked and wished a good day. The interaction was quick, polite and pleasant. I wondered what would happen if - when - they encountered a fare evader.
As an afterthought to our conversation I mentioned that one of the myki readers at Seddon station was faulty and gave details. They made a note and thanked me for the information. That saved me a phone call. (My station is an unstaffed station, so unless members of the community take responsibility for reporting equipment failures, problems can be left unaddressed for a long time.)
Further forward in the carriage, one of the two men was in a longer discussion with a male and female passenger who appeared to be travelling together. I couldn't hear what was being said, but the body language suggested that there was a problem. The level of engagement still looked polite and friendly from a distance. It was my stop, so I wasn't able to observe this conversation for very long.
If every Authorised Officer goes about their work as this trio did, then they are excellent ambassadors for their organisation. (I'm not actually sure for whom they work.) With this kind of outlook the Authorised Officers are in a great position to educate the travelling public, rather than taking a punitive approach which focusses on "catching people".
From the train I went to the tram stop. Two aqua clad myki mates were talking to each other. As soon as passengers arrived at the tram stop, they approached each person at the stop to see if they had any questions about myki. Again, I was impressed with their friendly demeanour and proactive approach to engage with the travelling public, rather than waiting to be approached.
At the end of the day I was back at Flinders Street Station for my journey home. One of the signs in the pedestrian subway entrance (under Elizabeth Street) was impossible to read because of a combination of poorly placed lighting and a screen malfunction. The sign contained departure information for four lines, so was pretty important. There was one person staffing the gates so I asked him if anyone had given him feedback about the sign. He said no and walked towards me. I pointed out the problem and he thanked me for letting him know. He said that he never looks at the sign and that it was impossible to read. He walked back to his post and made a note. Again, he was proactive and interested in helping the travelling public.
I will admit that I was expecting a shrug of the shoulders and a "promise" to do something without any intention. I was pleasantly surprised. It will be interesting to see what action is taken in response to this feedback.
By contrast, as I walked across the main concourse at Flinders Street station this evening on my way home, I followed five Protective Services Officers. They were an intimidating pack with their sunglasses (reflective?) and police-like outfits. They were all men and their body language radiated authority. They were going to the same platform as me and when I saw them looking around with purpose, I suddenly felt nervous.
Why?
A story from Malcolm Gladwell's book, "Blink" sprang to mind. He talks about police behaviour. In one police district in the US police brutality and police shootings occurred more often when police worked in pairs or bigger groups. They switched to police working solo and saw a drop in these kinds of incidents. The decrease was attributed to less instinctive, "blink of an eye" decision-making when police worked alone. In this situation they were more likely to be cautious, wait for backup and not act in a way that escalated encounters. (This is a very short summary, so read the book for the whole picture.) Observing this group of Protective Services Officers brought this story to life at that moment.
I think it is good to send a message about safety on public transport, especially the trains and especially outside peak times. As a committed, frequent and female public transport user, it is very important to me to be confident that I can travel safely. I wonder if these intimidating men, presented as pseudo-police is really the way to achieve this?
So despite a crawl into the city this morning and a message yesterday telling me the service I had planned my day around "will not run", overall, I'm feeling a little more positive about the attitude of our public transport operators towards me, the travelling public.
How do you feel about public transport? Do you use it? Why? Why not?
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Queue etiquette - what to do when the machines don't work.
When I arrived at the train station this morning, it was about 8am - the heart of the peak at my tiny suburban train station. I knew that I had to top up my myki at the machine because the balance was less than $5.
I'm very familiar with the machine and use it all the time to top up the card. When I arrived, the was no queue and I walked straight up to the machine. I pressed all the usual buttons, inserted my debit card, selected my account type and then entered my PIN. Nothing happened for a while and I looked again at the display on the EFTPOS part of the machine and saw it was asking me to re-enter my PIN. I did what it asked and continued to wait. In the meantime a queue of people had formed behind me. I could hear a train arriving and was keen to be on it.
Nothing happened again. I looked again and was asked to re-verify my PIN. The train came and went. At this point I decided to pay with cash, rather than fruitlessly arguing with the machine further. The woman directly behind me was becoming highly agitated. I turned and apologised to her as I waited for the machine to acknowledge any form of my money. She said, "Do you think I could just do my top up? I want to catch the train."
I found this bizarre. I was also wanting to catch the train and was wrestling with a machine that usually works without a problem, if a little slowly. We all just had to go through the process with the machine in turn.
The machine spat my note out. As I turned it over and tried reinserting it, the woman behind me asked again if she could "just use the machine while you are waiting". Waiting? I was in the middle of using the machine! I wasn't waiting.
My response was to say that we're all just wanting to use the machine so we can catch a train. "We all just have to wait and take our turn."
She huffed again. The machine finally accepted my money. The myki was topped up. As I walked away to wait on the platform to wait for a train. I waited for less than two minutes.
We seem to be in such a hurry these days and expect everything to happen instantly that we take it out on other people when those expectations aren't met. Wouldn't it be great if the woman could understand that everyone was in the same boat and find a way to help?
What do you do? What's the etiquette in this kind of situation?
I'm very familiar with the machine and use it all the time to top up the card. When I arrived, the was no queue and I walked straight up to the machine. I pressed all the usual buttons, inserted my debit card, selected my account type and then entered my PIN. Nothing happened for a while and I looked again at the display on the EFTPOS part of the machine and saw it was asking me to re-enter my PIN. I did what it asked and continued to wait. In the meantime a queue of people had formed behind me. I could hear a train arriving and was keen to be on it.
Nothing happened again. I looked again and was asked to re-verify my PIN. The train came and went. At this point I decided to pay with cash, rather than fruitlessly arguing with the machine further. The woman directly behind me was becoming highly agitated. I turned and apologised to her as I waited for the machine to acknowledge any form of my money. She said, "Do you think I could just do my top up? I want to catch the train."
I found this bizarre. I was also wanting to catch the train and was wrestling with a machine that usually works without a problem, if a little slowly. We all just had to go through the process with the machine in turn.
The machine spat my note out. As I turned it over and tried reinserting it, the woman behind me asked again if she could "just use the machine while you are waiting". Waiting? I was in the middle of using the machine! I wasn't waiting.
My response was to say that we're all just wanting to use the machine so we can catch a train. "We all just have to wait and take our turn."
She huffed again. The machine finally accepted my money. The myki was topped up. As I walked away to wait on the platform to wait for a train. I waited for less than two minutes.
We seem to be in such a hurry these days and expect everything to happen instantly that we take it out on other people when those expectations aren't met. Wouldn't it be great if the woman could understand that everyone was in the same boat and find a way to help?
What do you do? What's the etiquette in this kind of situation?
Saturday, 15 September 2012
Hatred on the trains today - the unanswered question.
I've taken to catching the train to choir rehearsal on Saturdays. I used to drive, but I found coming home a real drag. I'd always hit football traffic and it didn't seem to matter which route I took, there was gridlock. I decided to take the train and see what that was like. It's quicker in both directions and I usually have time to buy a coffee for the second leg of the journey leaving from Flinders Street Station. I also build in some extra reading time in my day.
Catching the train on weekends can be an experience as the patrons seem to come from a different world. It's not workers going to work. It seems to be junkies, strung out on their way to visit their dealer, or comatose junkies on their way back from seeing their dealer.
This morning everything ran smoothly until the second leg of the journey. The carriage I was in wasn't very full. Most people around me had a block of four seats to themselves and all the groups of four were filled. There was an ostinato of quiet conversation.
Then a woman behind me yelled, in her best scrag voice: "I wasn't talking to YOU! That was a comment I made to my BOYFRIEND!"
A male responded: "You want to kill all Moslems? Do you? Huh? Huh? You and your weak boyfriend?"
A ripple of fear went through the carriage. I turned slightly to see what was going on, but was aware that I didn't want to catch anyone's attention. A few older women quietly moved seats into the front of the carriage where I was.
The yelling continued. The boyfriend said nothing, he was wired, but there was fear in his eyes. He was small, but wiry, with the aged face and spoiled teeth of a junkie. It was the woman who was spoiling for the fight.
She continued to scream at the two men as the train pulled into West Richmond Station: "Leave me alone! It was nothing to do with you! Go AWAY!"
"Yeah, bitch? You want to fight? You say you're too good for us. You hate all Moslems?"
You get the idea of the exchange if you just repeat, alternating the phrases.
I was finding it difficult to follow the thread of the argument and was pleased when the train stopped at the station and the woman and her boyfriend exited. The two men continued to taunt her with obscenities. She obviously thought she was now at a safe distance as she stood aggressively and poked her tongue out at them. It seemed a bizarre gesture, childish almost, in this intensely adult situation. It was like a spark on a drop of petrol. They forced the doors of the train open and continued to hurl abuse at her. By this time the boyfriend was using the public phone at the station (who does that anymore?) and was leaving the girl to argue on her own behalf.
I didn't know what to do. I find these situations intimidating because they feel so volatile. It feels as though a hint of eye contact with the wrong person at the wrong moment could be the spark that ignites the bonfire. Should I get off the train and wait for the next one? I've moved carriages before in this kind of situation and been abused and followed as I've moved. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. I stayed where I was.
As the doors of the train closed and the train drew out of the station, the two men addressed the carriage: "Anyone in here want to kill all Moslems?"
Nobody said a word. By this time, we onlookers weren't even looking at each other. Silence seemed to be the answer they wanted. My station came quickly and I was glad to be out of there.
I didn't hear what the woman said to her boyfriend at the start. I could assume it probably wasn't very nice, but I don't think the response of the two men was helpful to them as individuals or to people of their faith.
Why can't we all just get along? That's my simple wish for the world.
Catching the train on weekends can be an experience as the patrons seem to come from a different world. It's not workers going to work. It seems to be junkies, strung out on their way to visit their dealer, or comatose junkies on their way back from seeing their dealer.
This morning everything ran smoothly until the second leg of the journey. The carriage I was in wasn't very full. Most people around me had a block of four seats to themselves and all the groups of four were filled. There was an ostinato of quiet conversation.
Then a woman behind me yelled, in her best scrag voice: "I wasn't talking to YOU! That was a comment I made to my BOYFRIEND!"
A male responded: "You want to kill all Moslems? Do you? Huh? Huh? You and your weak boyfriend?"
A ripple of fear went through the carriage. I turned slightly to see what was going on, but was aware that I didn't want to catch anyone's attention. A few older women quietly moved seats into the front of the carriage where I was.
The yelling continued. The boyfriend said nothing, he was wired, but there was fear in his eyes. He was small, but wiry, with the aged face and spoiled teeth of a junkie. It was the woman who was spoiling for the fight.
She continued to scream at the two men as the train pulled into West Richmond Station: "Leave me alone! It was nothing to do with you! Go AWAY!"
"Yeah, bitch? You want to fight? You say you're too good for us. You hate all Moslems?"
You get the idea of the exchange if you just repeat, alternating the phrases.
I was finding it difficult to follow the thread of the argument and was pleased when the train stopped at the station and the woman and her boyfriend exited. The two men continued to taunt her with obscenities. She obviously thought she was now at a safe distance as she stood aggressively and poked her tongue out at them. It seemed a bizarre gesture, childish almost, in this intensely adult situation. It was like a spark on a drop of petrol. They forced the doors of the train open and continued to hurl abuse at her. By this time the boyfriend was using the public phone at the station (who does that anymore?) and was leaving the girl to argue on her own behalf.
I didn't know what to do. I find these situations intimidating because they feel so volatile. It feels as though a hint of eye contact with the wrong person at the wrong moment could be the spark that ignites the bonfire. Should I get off the train and wait for the next one? I've moved carriages before in this kind of situation and been abused and followed as I've moved. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself. I stayed where I was.
As the doors of the train closed and the train drew out of the station, the two men addressed the carriage: "Anyone in here want to kill all Moslems?"
Nobody said a word. By this time, we onlookers weren't even looking at each other. Silence seemed to be the answer they wanted. My station came quickly and I was glad to be out of there.
I didn't hear what the woman said to her boyfriend at the start. I could assume it probably wasn't very nice, but I don't think the response of the two men was helpful to them as individuals or to people of their faith.
Why can't we all just get along? That's my simple wish for the world.
Friday, 17 August 2012
My favourite things - this week.
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| (c) divacultura 2012 |
2. My phone has been running hot this week! All the connections I've been making are waking up and the work is flowing in. Some people call it luck. I call it being curious and strategic. Many of my best opportunities have arisen because I asked the right question and have discovered something even better just waiting to be uncovered. People love to talk about themselves and what they are doing. We generally love anyone who shows an interest in these things, so why not be one of the people in the world who does this? You never know what you will discover.
3. The Whiffenpoofs! The Whiffen-what's? The Whiffenpoofs are fourteen Yale men in their senior year who form this very special a capella vocal group. You may have seen them in Season 4, Episode 11of The West Wing. I was fortunate to catch them at St Michael's Uniting Church in Collins Street on Tuesday night for a mere $20.
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| The Whiffenpoofs - it's a bit wobbly - I had to lean around a pole and not use any flash. But I think they look very dashing, right down to their white gloves. (c) divacultura 2012 |
I almost didn't go. I'd been up since 5:30am that morning and had facilitated three workshops during the day. As I travelled back into the city on the train, the rain fell down and I felt like just going home. When I arrived at Flinders Street station, I discovered when I stepped off the train, that I only had to step right back on and I'd be on my way home. I kept walking, thinking that I'd buy an umbrella at the pharmacy upstairs. If they weren't open I'd go home. They were open and I added a lovely red, frilly umbrella to my collection. (My friends mocked my "parasol" mercilessly.) The prospect of a glass of red wine and a quick Italian meal with some new friends kept me going. I'm so glad I went. Their second encore summoned the tears - "I'll be Seeing You". It never fails!
4. I recently discovered Striking Truths and their Daily Manifesto. Have you? This week, Make Room for Bravery really struck a chord. You can have your daily manifesto sent direct to you in box. It takes 30 seconds to read and is often provocative. The idea of making room for bravery spoke directly to me!
5. The trouble I've had travelling all over Melbourne on Metro Trains could have made me very unhappy if it wasn't for the wonderful follow up with Andre in Customer Service. Several trains were cancelled, drivers were confused, connections were missed, colleagues were left waiting, it was raining and I literally walked into a workshop I was facilitating with two minutes to spare. I had a very informative conversation and gained some new insight into various aspects of our train system. It didn't change the inconvenience (and stress) I suffered, but I felt appreciated for bothering to let them know about what was happening. Apparently, I was caught up in some interesting and unusual chains of events. Lucky me!
What rocked your world this week?
AND TIME IS RUNNING OUT....
IT'S MY BIRTHDAY & YOU GET THE GIFTS!
As I contemplate renewing my commitment to divacultura for another year, I feel excitement and affection. Thank you for sharing some of your time with me. As a thank you gift - and so I can gain a better sense of who's out there - I'll be giving away a pair of my hand knitted socks to two very lucky readers, where ever you are in the world (ie two readers will receive a pair of socks each). To be in the running, leave a comment on this post by Friday 17 August 2012, stating why you like reading divacultura. My favourite responses will receive the prize (my decision is final). Why not take the opportunity to sign up and follow too!
And there are still passes to see The Sapphires available here for Australian-based readers.
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