Today was a Saturday like any other in the inner western suburbs of Sydney: the ibis were scratching for burger ring scraps in the church grounds, the goths were dressing inappropriately for the warm weather, and the roads that supply cars to King Street were filled with cars trying to get away from the goths, the ibis and the King Street traffic. (Before I go on, I should point out that the the term 'goth' in this instance extends to people that aren't genuine goths but some other peculiar sub category of goth involving a dash more colour and a dash less crushed velvet). I'm not the sharpest sandwich in the picnic, so i assumed it was the blue moon festival or perhaps some other important day of the pagan calendar that had upped the 'goth' ratio in the streets. The likely epicentre of celebrations would be the dismal 'town square' opposite Newtown Station where there is ample shade for sweaty men in three piece suits.
As my bus crawled across the invisible line where Victoria Road becomes Enmore Road and beyond, it seemed that this traffic was even worse than normal... and do you know why? Because there was a horse and cart up ahead of us! On a proper road! On a Saturday! In the morning! When there is always a lot of traffic! When it is a bad time for slow novelty vehicles!
As my bus crawled across the invisible line where Victoria Road becomes Enmore Road and beyond, it seemed that this traffic was even worse than normal... and do you know why? Because there was a horse and cart up ahead of us! On a proper road! On a Saturday! In the morning! When there is always a lot of traffic! When it is a bad time for slow novelty vehicles!
Regardless, there it was... wending it's way to... wherever.
My first thought was 'why isn't their more tooting, or 'parping' as they say on Men Behaving Badly?', but barely had that obscure 90s television reference crossed my mind when I realised that horses were involved, and if we city folk know anything it's that horses startle easily and that they can't be trusted around loud noises and footpaths full of goths. Patiently (and silently) the cars all limped along behind this peculiar spectacle, and suddenly it occured to me that the arseholes that choose to sit alone on a two person bus seat are lower on the dick hierachy than this anachronistic public spectacle business.
Finally, the bus driver overtook the cart in a relatively bold/assertive move and I went about my day (which for those of you playing at home involved a sister, some yum cha, some walking and some car borrowing). I also went and introduced myself to the Goodship Lollipop... (which is the name I really really hope my lil' pal gives his new boat, with a simple little 'HMAS Lollipop' printed on the side).
Can you imagine my surprise when, upon my return almost six hours later, i was stuck behind the same fucking horse and cart, this time descending Enmore Road across the invisibile line into Victoria Road? I was in control of my own destiny, horn-wise, but we were right near our favourite pizza shop and horses still can't be trusted, so I sat behind, patiently (and silently) and unwillingly.
I can glean one positive from this second encounter: I was trapped behind the cart long enough to see it turn a corner ...which revealed that it was a HEARSE horse and cart carrying a COFFIN! What's more about five of the cars immediately behind the cart turned out to be following it in good temper, not bad, as funeral mourners in vintage (not olden day) vehicles. And they were all off to finish their pantomime in Enmore Park in the shadow of the playground rocket. And I was off to wherever they weren't going to be.
I now know that today is halloween (my sandwich has been sharpened) and perhaps that means something to the 'goth' population of the Inner West.
To the ten year olds of Hunters Hill, however, it means an opportunity to put on a black leotard with bunny ears and a fluffy tail and walk the streets asking strangers for candy.
My first thought was 'why isn't their more tooting, or 'parping' as they say on Men Behaving Badly?', but barely had that obscure 90s television reference crossed my mind when I realised that horses were involved, and if we city folk know anything it's that horses startle easily and that they can't be trusted around loud noises and footpaths full of goths. Patiently (and silently) the cars all limped along behind this peculiar spectacle, and suddenly it occured to me that the arseholes that choose to sit alone on a two person bus seat are lower on the dick hierachy than this anachronistic public spectacle business.
Finally, the bus driver overtook the cart in a relatively bold/assertive move and I went about my day (which for those of you playing at home involved a sister, some yum cha, some walking and some car borrowing). I also went and introduced myself to the Goodship Lollipop... (which is the name I really really hope my lil' pal gives his new boat, with a simple little 'HMAS Lollipop' printed on the side).
Can you imagine my surprise when, upon my return almost six hours later, i was stuck behind the same fucking horse and cart, this time descending Enmore Road across the invisibile line into Victoria Road? I was in control of my own destiny, horn-wise, but we were right near our favourite pizza shop and horses still can't be trusted, so I sat behind, patiently (and silently) and unwillingly.
I can glean one positive from this second encounter: I was trapped behind the cart long enough to see it turn a corner ...which revealed that it was a HEARSE horse and cart carrying a COFFIN! What's more about five of the cars immediately behind the cart turned out to be following it in good temper, not bad, as funeral mourners in vintage (not olden day) vehicles. And they were all off to finish their pantomime in Enmore Park in the shadow of the playground rocket. And I was off to wherever they weren't going to be.
I now know that today is halloween (my sandwich has been sharpened) and perhaps that means something to the 'goth' population of the Inner West.
To the ten year olds of Hunters Hill, however, it means an opportunity to put on a black leotard with bunny ears and a fluffy tail and walk the streets asking strangers for candy.
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