Inner City Pressure

As I write this it has been a whole two weeks where Australia has been without a government yet somehow quite amazingly things have functioned and worked and actually been okay. Who would have thought, huh? Personally, life would have been somewhat enlivened by complete anarchy and tribal warfare breaking out between The No Boat Banana Republic and The Smugly Progressive Latte States of Australia. Alas, all we have is a man in a big hat, a few dodgy sums and the odd barrel of pork to work things out.

Back in the real world, dare I say, Spring has been springing, the wattle bursting from the seams, the blossom erupting just over the last week and a jolly Canberra high of 19 degrees causing celebration in the byways of Bruce. As we inch out of winter, it is cruelly letting go with one last shebang, dispersing snotty noses and sore throats across the capital and into my own letterbox. It is widely appreciated that males are severely more prone to this affliction, causing regular moans, cursed mutterings and bitter resentment.

I shouldn’t blame Canberra on this most debilitating of illnesses though. The real culprit is the woman in the GPS in the hire car in Melbourne who clearly didn’t like it when I ignored her pleas to do a u-turn, hacking out a few coughs in between her orders to stop me in my tracks. Yes, Melbourne, capital of the Smugly Progressive Latte States of Australia, so a place I naturally fit in. Though this time I kind of found it annoying. Partly that was to do with driving around the arse end of places. With an annoying GPS woman barking out orders at me. I also missed out on the substantial doses of coffee and cake I was hoping for. Blame it on the Government. Oh, what Government?

Sunday afternoon in Melbourne gave me a pre-work opportunity to enjoy the city as much as I could in my old man grumpy pants mood. I headed to Brighton, predictably a bayside suburb with beach huts but, unlike it’s rather camp English counterpart, possessing something approaching sand. Promenade walking was the order of the day, quite substantial in length in the end, and deserving of a burger in the milk bar on the way back. I like milk bars. They seem very Melbourne. Halfway between a greasy spoon and a grocery store. Selling random assortments of food and, yes, I would hazard a guess, milk. To me they encapsulate the spirit and flavour of fried potato scallops with a good sprinkling of salt.





Driving back into the city was fun as I attempted to navigate my way to a car park so that I could have the privilege of paying extortionate fees for leaving the car there overnight. I think possibly the parking fees were more expensive than the little car, bless it. By now fading and ready for a late afternoon nap, the only way out of this was to hunt out a prime spot for a macchiato and perhaps a little sweet treat. I found it and also found a rather fine sweet treat which I must look out for again, if I can remember its name.

Fuelled up, I decided to go all monochrome in that way you sometimes do in an attempt to be all urban cool like.







In black and white or colour, it was nice to amble for a while without GPS girl as the city turned dark. Down by the Yarra, a montage of photographers appeared to be congregating; there was hardly room to move for tripods. For my part I took very few tripod-less photos, though was given an overwhelmingly excited reaction after agreeing to take a picture for some Asian tourists. Anyone would have thought they had been turned down by hundreds of passers-by already before I relented. Still, it was very cute.

Monday morning dawned in colour though black and white seemed to be more in keeping with the labours of the day. Quite randomly I found myself following in the footsteps of the current, for now, maybe for not much longer, Prime Minister. With half hour to spare in her electorate of Altona I dined at a cafe where Julia and partner had a coffee the day after the election revealed Australia was unsure about redheads. And then strolled along that pier where no doubt Julia muttered a few quiet drawling swear words to Tim. Thank goodness, there was no Leader of the Opposition swanning around on the beach in his togs, spotting pesky terrorist filled boats. That would have made me even more ill!