What God Likes

Graffiti seen in Illawarra Rd by a friend, but sadly cleaned off before I could photograph it:

"God hates homos"

and someone had written underneath it:

"Does he like Falafel?"

Santa's sack slipped & someone nicked the tips

By Meredith

I'm in Mebourne, having my usual Christmas / New Year break with family and old friends. On Christmas Day, after a beautiful lunch of mushroom and asparagus risotto, baked vegetables, salad, berry and passionfruit pavlova, Christmas pudding with custard, Christmas cake, and chocolates, I was assailed by this sight of sights:


On Boxing Day, wandering along Brunswick St, Fitzroy, I heard this conversation between a Koori couple sitting with lattes outside The Black Cat:

her: "A blackfella went in and stole their tips bowl."
him (groaning, head in hands): "You're kidding me."

Today, I'm going underwear shopping with my mother at David Jones. I suggested we meet on the Flinders St Station steps, but mother came up with a better idea - the Big Purse.

Young people today, my oh my

Goodness, the things you hear on the 423 bus if you get in with the after school crowd. Two boys in school uniform, about fifteen years old. One tall with dark curly hair, the other small and blonde. They stood near where I was sitting, and there was a spare seat next to me. The tall one said to the small one, "stand here, beautiful." My ears pricked up - did he really say that? - was he talking to the other boy, or is there a girl around? - or did I hear wrong? Then the little blonde one said to the tall curly-headed one "Why don't you sit down?" To which his friend replied quite clearly and seriously "I'm not sitting down unless you can too, my love."

Mothers of Marrickville

On Friday as I was walking to the bus stop, up along Illawarra Rd, I passed my neighbour's mother. This neighbour and her husband are from Turkey and they brought her aged mother out to live with them and their three kids (in a three bedroom house) a few years ago. I've never really spoken to the grandmother properly as she has very sparse English. We pass on the street and smile and say hello. Sometimes she says "hot!" or "nice day!" and I agree with her. Once I had a garage sale and she shuffled into the front yard with a couple of her grandkids. They were interested in the box of pre-loved stuffed toys. "Eh, eh?" she said to me, holding up a raggedy elephant and a pink unicorn. "Fifty cents each" I said. "Dollar?" she replied, and I said "yes". "Dollar the lot?" she said, "yes" I said. Then her and the kids gathered up all of the toys. There must have been thirty of them. And it turned out she only had eighty-five cents.

Anyway, as I was saying, I passed her on Friday. It was raining a little and she was muttering to herself under her umbrella. I said a quick hello and continued up the hill then heard "me mama, me mama." I thought she was introducing herself. Goodness. I doubled back, smiling. "Me mama dead, me mama dead" she told me, softly pounding her fist on her black-clad chest. "I'm so sorry" I said, thinking that her mother must have been dead for decades. She nodded and stopped walking. "Sorrow," she said, "sorrow". And I suddenly felt the weight and force of her grief. We were silent for a while, standing under her umbrella. Eventually I just said "It's very sad."

Other kids on the block

A little Eastern suburbs bird told me that this blog had been the topic of discussion at a dinner on the other side of George St on the weekend. I'm pleased, and hope I paint a good picture of my beloved suburb.

As real estate in Sydney becomes almost impossibly expensive* more and more people who would once never have dreamed of living somewhere like Marrickville are looking over this way.

Well, that's wonderful, but can you please come with eyes and hearts open to all of Marrickville's charm and beauty as it is, not with mindsets that want to transform it into somewhere with trendy coffee shops and rows of plane trees and fancy wine bars full of well dressed people? Because what you'll get here are bunnies. And pay phones.

*Want to own your own home? Simple! Just make sure you and your partner both earn more than the average wage, then save $200,000, then borrow $500,000 on a 35 year mortgage... there has to be a better way. We need real estate collectives, we need public housing for everyone, we need a communist government, we need oh god I need a panadol.

beddie-byes

The baby preparations have turned into a bit of a Spring-clean. I decided to include Ruby's room in the vacuuming, dusting, etc, and realised just how neglected it has been. She's not really allowed me in there since she was 13 - that's nearly 4 years ago. But today she was strangely keen on domesticity, and my company, so we cleaned it together, chatting about our various takes on Christmas & all sorts of other things. She's extremely observant and much more sensitive, intelligent & less-selfish than I was at 16.

So, now the hallway is crowded with bags of stuff for the op-shop. Blackened blobs of blu-tack have been scraped up off the floorboards, skirting boards have been wiped down, bookshelves tidied, mirrors windexed. Old stuffed toys have been rediscovered and a long-lost pink thong (the rubber sort for the foot) reunited with its mate.

I've made up a portacot, borrowed from a friend, for little Griff. I've had this sheet, embroidered with Dick Bruna characters, since Ruby was a baby, folded in the bottom drawer (I washed it today as it smelt a bit musty). The pure wool blanket was crocheted by my very clever mother. Richard kept checking the Qantas website today, and finally told me an hour ago that the flight's final boarding calls were being made at Heathrow.

Tomorrow: mow lawn, wipe out kitchen cupboards, get Ruby to clean bottom of rat cage, vacuum lounge, tidy my bedroom, pick the ladies and the lad up from the airport, pour red wine & begin the party! There's a thunderstorm over Marrickville right now; and so to bed.

Reasons to be Cheerful

On the way home from work I stopped at the Coopers Arms on King St and had a brandy & soda. In Marrickville I bought avocadoes and red capsicums from my friend the greengrocer, and other bits & pieces from shops along Illawarra Rd. I made a big dish of nachos, some guacomale, a salad. We were all stuffed silly. It's a humid evening and the overhead fan is on. The kids are doing their things, playing on msn, talking on the phone - "so is everyone bringing their own case? Alcoholic not!" - "There are these two losers from my year" - "No wait, losers from your year?" - "No no, seriously..." and getting ready to go to a battle of the bands. And the best thing - once the kiddies are off Richard and I are going to watch the first episode of the fourth series of Six Feet Under. I can't wait to find out how Lisa died, and even if, indeed, she is dead at all. And I have new sandals, and in the morning I'm off to see me dears in Melbourne.