Sunday, February 6, 2022

The Long Walk Home

 I walked home from town today, in the glorious sunshine. Against my better judgement I took the tram into town so I could get my eyebrows sorted. Thankfully there were only a handful of people on the tram and a N95 mask was firmly attached to my face. 

At Myer, I was transformed from a John Howard lookalike to my normal self, thanks to the Benefit Brow Bar  - I can't recommend them highly enough, even though I still can remember when or why eyebrows became such a thing. But they are important. 

I was also mortified a few minutes later when I went to buy some face soap at the Clinique counter. MORTIFIED. I've been using their ultra mild facial soap for many years - and now they bloody gone and discontinued it. MORTIFIED I am! I hate when that happens - your favourite brands no longer being available (think Stella McCartney perfume, Poppy lipstick, Benefit Roller Eyeliner...). I'll try their liquid soap, but I'm still not impressed. 

Being such a nice day, I decided to walk home through town. 

The place has changed. It's not as busy. A lot of shops which used to be open on the weekend. Target has gone in the city. Like really gone. There's a Kmart where Target used to be. It's not the same. 

Some of the old restaurants are gone, but many remain. My old favourite haunt, China Red is still there. The Nitrogen bar gone. The Paramount Shopping Centre at the top of Bourke Street, that beacon of chintz near the Elephant and Wheelbarrow looked very sad indeed. If anything, that strange patch of Bourke Street feels even weirder. 

I got to the corner of Spring Street where a group of a couple of hundred protesters stood waiting to go on a march. Dickheads. I'm not sure what they were protesting, but it feels like waste of police time and money. It was a hotch potch group of conspiracy theorists, anti-vaxxers, Dan Haters and people touting the Eureka flag. Go figure. 

I stopped at the the Grocer on Spring Street for a coffee - and was delighted to see that they still have their pistachio and cardamom ice cream on the ice cream board - that stuff is phenomenal.

And then down Albert Street. Something told me to go into St Patrick's cathedral, just on a whim. The pandemic has taken away our sacred spaces. On walking in, the security guard said they were closing in ten minutes. I didn't need much more time than that, and I pretty much got the place to myself. It's been years since I've been in there. It's a newer cathedral, it doesn't have the history of the English ones I used to frequent. Touching the nave columns, I couldn't feel the reverberation of prayers in the aging stone. If anything, all I could feel was sadness. I persisted. I did a lap of the place, just enjoying the solitude, and wishing, without hope, that I was in a more ancient place. I know that the cathedral is on sacred ground of sorts, but the feelings were different.


And then I walked the three kilometers home. Happy for the day out. Pleased for the sunshine. Grateful for doing something that was once so normal. 

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