tales from an ordinary world

2002-05-19

Glen Waverley station seems so much more bleak and pointless than it ever did 15 years ago, especially in this dreary weather. A crow perches on the edge of a rubbish bin, pulling random items out and throwing them to the ground. After a while, it hops down to investigate a McDonalds bag it had set aside, but soon jumps back onto the bin to search for more, mercilessly tugging at the black plastic bag that lines the bin.

In the morning, I waited outside for the familiar whine of my father's engine when he picked me up for lunch. For 22 years, Since The Accident, he's always driven Mitsubishi cars - Sigmas, now Magnas. The Astron engine has a particular higher-than-normal sound, one I'll never forget. The sound of him leaving in the morning, and returning in the evening. Or when he speeds up on a highway, while Mum worriedly suggests that he's going too fast.

Just before the train reaches the bridge before Richmond station, a small white sign to the left of the tracks asks "have you made a P.A. announcement ?"