To the Country

What a beautiful day. The sky was blue, like aquamarine. The light was turned to full warmth, full glow. The day positively sparkled.

Grand Final Saturday, not that I was getting out because of it, but it is still a good day to leave, none the less. I can hear the cheers of the MCG from my front gate.

Ah, the country train, sliding through the paddocks like a metal snake, watching the city fall away. Over the hills and through the valleys. The predominant colour has faded to pale green, no longer the wide open verdant green pastures it once was. It looked dry, faded.

I lay back against the comfortable seat, dusted with sunlight and half read the newspaper and half gazed at the country passing by out side.

One girl sat in the window seat, four seats behind me. Another girl sat in the window seat opposite and they talked all the way. One of them never stopped talking. Even when the ticket inspector got on, she had to talk to him about her trip to and, of course, her trip back.

She never stopped talking, about herself the whole way. Even as I slid my backpack on and headed to the door, vowing to go straight to the chemist for ear plugs, her mouth was still working.