Thursday, January 30, 2020

Sanctuary

It's just a bloody hot afternoon
In bloody Melbourne town,
The trams are out of action,
The lawns are going brown,
The weather just is quite horrid
But it could be bloody worse
It could be bloody humid
Which makes me bloody terse.

But when it's bloody hot outside
And you can't get bloody home,
You have to seek some shelter
As it's too hot outside to roam.
You do the air conditioning dance
From one arcade to another.
You search out trees and awnings,
But that can be a bother.

But for me when it is bloody hot
I take my sanctuary
In the bloody library reading room
To save looking like a cranberry.
It's cool and calm and very staid,
And people sit and cram.
But it's better than getting bloody heat stroke,
Waiting for the bloody tram.

---oOo---

I felt like poeting today.

It's bloody hot outside.

Yes, I am sitting here in the State Library Reading room while I wait for the planned industrial action for the trams to be over. The trams should be working again in an hour or so, but I had appointments today in town. A coffee with my old pimp and lunch with Raj.

Due to the timings, I caught an Uber into down. Had a lovely fellow drive me. We talked about India, what I had found in the North, how things are different in the South. His spotlessly clean Civic had a laughing Buddha on the dash along with a small shrine to Shiva and a couple of other gods. They were small and sweet. Nice fellow. We had a laugh. I've just checked and I still have my 4.8 passenger rating so I've been deemed a good passenger.

But then, after the coffee meeting and the lunch, it was a matter of how to get home. Of course, there is always the train - but that means a 15 minute walk in the heat home at the end. No thank you. So I planned ahead. Brought in my travel laptop with me and I've come here:


There is a grandeur to this building. I love the reading room. I tend to get a bit done when I come here - okay today it's the blog, but when I go back to school I could see myself coming here to write for a few hours before going home. It's that or ordering a jail cell at Melbourne Jail - the old one on Russell Street. They have cells where writers can go to write during the day.

But I am starting work on 10 February. I have better things to do than sit around in the old jail, with no air conditioning, in February, tapping away.

Just for the moment, I'll sit here in the reading room and read my book. Currently reading Peter Carey's The True History of the Kelly Gang. Although I can see the merit of the book, see the achievement, I get why he won the Booker for it - but I'm still slightly underwhelmed. It is wrong to no really adore Australian beloved authors? (I'm not that fond of Kate Grenville either... is this a hanging offence? And don't get me started on Matthew Reilly and Cathy Moriarty... there is soooo much better out there).

Actually I won't hang around. It's 3 pm, the trams will be back and there are a couple of Mormon blokes sitting next to me chatting. They don't smell that fresh. This is the silent area. Hmph. I don't feel like being asked about joining the Church of Latter Day Saints today.

The one thing I don't like about the library - it's near my favourite bubble tea place, where they do rose and lychee soda. It's bad for your but it's glorious. I don't need bubble tea, as much as I love the stuff.

So I'll be off.

Today's song: (in honour of the tram drivers. It may be a pain, but I support their cause.)



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