I sit here gazing out of my bedroom window, overlooking my dishevelled, overgrown, weed infested back yard, towards the Fadden Hills, where the sun is straining to haul itself slowly to the rim of the skyline, ready to send it’s rays of early morning light flooding into the Tuggeranong Valley.
As I write, the first shards of sunshine are piercing the morning and the golden hue spears through the trees and the promise of the new day is delivered. We can all breathe easily again. We have made it to the start of another week.
As I sit here and drink my first cup of tea for the day I ponder why I am forsaking the comfort of bed and the pleasures of sleep to waste more of my time on the internet. Already, this treasured period of solitude and leisure has been compromised due to Megan detecting my presence and requesting me to take her to school. Not an inconvenient task but not one I want to get into a habit of performing.
And now, as I procrastinate, stretching my mind, imagination and volcabulary, trying to summon up from the depths of my shallow intellect the words which will electrify and excite those who may stumble across this tome in the course of the day, the sun has continued it’s advance and thrown it’s rug across my computer screen at the most inopportune moment.
No matter. A simple adjustment of the window blinds will see me right and let me continue unabated with this spellbinding entry in my blog which will no doubt tease the senses of all who care to read it.
A jetliner is streaking overhead, vapour trail spewing behind it. Heading south, south east by my reckoning. People who I will never know are on-board that jet but for a blinding moment have had their lives dissect with mine although they will never be aware of it. To them, this morning we are but ants, a civilisation left behind as the sun chases them across the sky and they draw ever closer to the destiny which the day holds for them. As the vapour trail fades so too does their minute presence in my life as it rolls on, slowly, meticulously, effortlessly.
Linda was up at at 6am, chugging off before the break of dawn to partake in her regular walk before work with her friend, a routine she has mastered and repeats several times a week. She should be reaching her desk about now as she prides herself at being on the job by 8am and there is less than a minute to endure before the clock strikes that magic hour.
As she leaves in the morning I shuffle and roll in bed, awakened by the furtive movement in my bedroom as Linda prepares herself for the day and the thought struck me to turn over and lie in for a little longer. I know from rough experience that the earlier I awake, the longer the day and the more strenuous the experience during these waking hours. The early start will strike back at me somewhere today and I should know better than to battle the physical elements and defy my body in the hope I will get through to the late evening without feeling the strain.
It’s not just the impracticality of being required to be at work for eight hours which annoys. The work isn’t hard. It’s the boredom. God, the boredom! Multiply that with the dull souls who populate the place and each day becomes a journey through a valley of desolation, no sophistication or stimulation to be found, lost on an ocean of dissolution.
I hear a knock on the door and the faint greeting which comes from the voice of a 16 year old girl and the reassurance from her which indicates she is ready to be driven to school and all at once I am thrust into the briskness of the morning to bathe in the glorious light of a Canberra autumn.
The still air is cool but the sun is beginning to percolate the day and our maximum forecast temperature should see us all comfortable with no need for extra gear or reason to strip down to escape excessive temperature.
The hubbub of the day is beginning. Like an electric current surging through a cable does it begin to take shape and the cars and trucks and bikes on the road increase to a crescendo until peak hour is upon us from whence the traffic will ebb to a more manageable tempo.
We ply our way through the Tuggeranong Town Centre, avoiding recalcitrant drivers, public servants dicing with death as they dart across the road between the traffic, oblivious to the safety of traffic lights and pedestrian crossing mere metres from their persons.
The teenagers, surprisingly many for this time of the morning funnel into the school as I drop Megan off and I watch, somewhat bemused as they lope unconcernedly over the crossing in front of the school, caring not a jot for the line up of cars awaiting them to finish their casual stroll across the road.
For all the hustle the day and the people of the town are placid. All know what is to be done and get on with it. No aggression, simply acceptance of the ritual of the day. As it will go on forever more.
No hassle for me either. Apart from a woman in a Ford Fiesta who gets perilously close to my rear bumper at the traffic lights, I make it home safely.
And now, the countdown through the morning is well and truly on and I approach my own finality for the day, a trip to work and all in entails. Before then though I will get out on my bike and enjoy a little more of the day before the metaphorical darkness closes in. And I wish you all, wherever you are, all the best in your own personal race of life today. You wouldn’t be dead for quids I’m sure.
Have a good one.
As I write, the first shards of sunshine are piercing the morning and the golden hue spears through the trees and the promise of the new day is delivered. We can all breathe easily again. We have made it to the start of another week.
As I sit here and drink my first cup of tea for the day I ponder why I am forsaking the comfort of bed and the pleasures of sleep to waste more of my time on the internet. Already, this treasured period of solitude and leisure has been compromised due to Megan detecting my presence and requesting me to take her to school. Not an inconvenient task but not one I want to get into a habit of performing.
And now, as I procrastinate, stretching my mind, imagination and volcabulary, trying to summon up from the depths of my shallow intellect the words which will electrify and excite those who may stumble across this tome in the course of the day, the sun has continued it’s advance and thrown it’s rug across my computer screen at the most inopportune moment.
No matter. A simple adjustment of the window blinds will see me right and let me continue unabated with this spellbinding entry in my blog which will no doubt tease the senses of all who care to read it.
A jetliner is streaking overhead, vapour trail spewing behind it. Heading south, south east by my reckoning. People who I will never know are on-board that jet but for a blinding moment have had their lives dissect with mine although they will never be aware of it. To them, this morning we are but ants, a civilisation left behind as the sun chases them across the sky and they draw ever closer to the destiny which the day holds for them. As the vapour trail fades so too does their minute presence in my life as it rolls on, slowly, meticulously, effortlessly.
Linda was up at at 6am, chugging off before the break of dawn to partake in her regular walk before work with her friend, a routine she has mastered and repeats several times a week. She should be reaching her desk about now as she prides herself at being on the job by 8am and there is less than a minute to endure before the clock strikes that magic hour.
As she leaves in the morning I shuffle and roll in bed, awakened by the furtive movement in my bedroom as Linda prepares herself for the day and the thought struck me to turn over and lie in for a little longer. I know from rough experience that the earlier I awake, the longer the day and the more strenuous the experience during these waking hours. The early start will strike back at me somewhere today and I should know better than to battle the physical elements and defy my body in the hope I will get through to the late evening without feeling the strain.
It’s not just the impracticality of being required to be at work for eight hours which annoys. The work isn’t hard. It’s the boredom. God, the boredom! Multiply that with the dull souls who populate the place and each day becomes a journey through a valley of desolation, no sophistication or stimulation to be found, lost on an ocean of dissolution.
I hear a knock on the door and the faint greeting which comes from the voice of a 16 year old girl and the reassurance from her which indicates she is ready to be driven to school and all at once I am thrust into the briskness of the morning to bathe in the glorious light of a Canberra autumn.
The still air is cool but the sun is beginning to percolate the day and our maximum forecast temperature should see us all comfortable with no need for extra gear or reason to strip down to escape excessive temperature.
The hubbub of the day is beginning. Like an electric current surging through a cable does it begin to take shape and the cars and trucks and bikes on the road increase to a crescendo until peak hour is upon us from whence the traffic will ebb to a more manageable tempo.
We ply our way through the Tuggeranong Town Centre, avoiding recalcitrant drivers, public servants dicing with death as they dart across the road between the traffic, oblivious to the safety of traffic lights and pedestrian crossing mere metres from their persons.
The teenagers, surprisingly many for this time of the morning funnel into the school as I drop Megan off and I watch, somewhat bemused as they lope unconcernedly over the crossing in front of the school, caring not a jot for the line up of cars awaiting them to finish their casual stroll across the road.
For all the hustle the day and the people of the town are placid. All know what is to be done and get on with it. No aggression, simply acceptance of the ritual of the day. As it will go on forever more.
No hassle for me either. Apart from a woman in a Ford Fiesta who gets perilously close to my rear bumper at the traffic lights, I make it home safely.
And now, the countdown through the morning is well and truly on and I approach my own finality for the day, a trip to work and all in entails. Before then though I will get out on my bike and enjoy a little more of the day before the metaphorical darkness closes in. And I wish you all, wherever you are, all the best in your own personal race of life today. You wouldn’t be dead for quids I’m sure.
Have a good one.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 