The sun is shining, a lovely sunny, winter Sunday. We take Charlie out for lunch.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because we should,” says Sam. “We hardly take him anywhere.”
That is true, but Charlie never seems that interested. “Sure. Okay,” I say.
We park in Park Street. I park in 3 car spots before I am done. Sam snorts derisively and he and Charlie wander away. The first park is 2 hours, then I see across the road it’s a 4 hour park. Then, as I get out of the car, I see there is a shaded spot closer to the corner, when what Sam said sinks in, that it is Sunday and restrictions don’t apply.
Restrictions don’t apply…
1.30pm. We’re at [Thai Restaurant] for lunch. Pink soup? It is my favourite, fermented tofu with sea food and noodles.
“No, we don’t do that anymore.”
“Oh well, let’s go,” I say. The pink soup was the only reason I wanted to come here.
Sam chuckles nervously. “What else would you like?”
We have a green papaya salad and Thai sausage as entrees. Sam and I eat rice dishes, mine has pork belly. Charlie ate Pad Thai. Charlie is kind of fussy about what he eats. He’s keener to eat what he is used to, more so than trying new things.
2.25pm. I take up my seat in The Hive at the tables in the concourse, while Sam shops, with Charlie tagging along. Oh, yes, I could go to the shops too, but all I really do is tag along mindlessly. Sam is the shopper, so I sit at the tables and write my journal. (Occasionally, not since Charlie has been around, I sneak a jam donut from the BreadTop’esque bakery on the concourse)
The tables are full today. There is a lot of chattering going on around me. Still, it is good to see people are still wearing their masks.
A homeless woman is asking for change as soon as I sit down. I hear myself sigh loudly at the magnitude of her problem.
The fat aboriginal girl whose pants are always falling off is chased out of Aldi by Aldi security muttering something undiscernible. I see her around a lot. Surely someone could take better care of her and her obvious mental health issues, I think.
Two gay guys in matching small black shorts and puffer jackets wander through, both with the same set of gymed legs, and I forget about the Aboriginal Girl instantly, then they wander back.
A woman comes to the Aldi door with her shaggy Oodle and uses Aldi’s hand sanitiser, she even has the audacity to hand the lead to the security guard so she could sanitise both hands, he seems to comply without a word of dissent. Then she heads back outside, her fat dog waddling along behind her. She props at the doorway of the centre and the dog props in the middle of the actual doorway lead outstretched, not a care.
Sam and Charlie drop off full shopping bags and head off again with empty ones, hardly saying a word. It’s all cold efficiency when Sam gets shopping.
An African woman, in all that garb, walks through with her four kids in tow all wearing [name of soccer club] jumpers. She is instructing them about something in a very loud voice. It is a sudden intrusion, makes me look up.
A guy sits at the table across the concourse in tight, pale grey track pants, he looks all bumpy. You’ve got to love tight pale pants.
Two couples meet in the middle of the concourse, like long lost friends. They exclaim hello and hug and act like they are surprised to see one another here.
Another African mother, in all that garb, walks through with her five children, one in a pusher. So many children, I think.
An adorable Asian couple wander passed in active wear. The boys have great legs and a tight arse.
The guy in the pale track pants girlfriend/wife comes back and they leave together.
A girl wanders passed in skin tight coral coloured track pants laughing uproariously to something someone has said to her on her phone.
A fat chick and what looks like her fat son, both with masks on, walk through quickly to the bakery, both seemingly leading with their faces, as though there is an emergency sugar rush to be had.
A woman comes and collects her husband sitting at the table next to me.
I look around and it looks like all the people at all the tables are husbands sitting while their wives shop. I wonder does that make me a cliché? I decide not to put too much thought into that.
Music plays over the speakers. I notice it for the first time.
A tall handsome guy in short black shorts, a hoodie, and a backpack motors through as though he has some where to be urgently. He’s heading away from me so I watched the material up the crack in his arse move from side to side.
Another handsome guy in short black shorts with great legs and a t-shirt walks through quickly. He’s heading towards me so I watch his cock bounce around under the black material of his shorts.
A boy starts tapping nervously on the table top next to me, he stops when I turn and look at him, then he seems to almost tap dance in slow motion across the concourse, looking off in the distance as if he is waiting for someone who is never arriving. His foot work is impressive if that is what he is in fact doing. He does it so nonchalantly
2.57pm. Sam and Charlie are walking towards me.
“Let’s go,” says Sam. He grabs the bags and walks off towards the car. He doesn’t mess around. Did he snap his fingers, he may have? Ha ha. That is Sam and I, efficiency meets the dreamer and somehow it works. Charlie grabs the rest of the bags, and by the time I get to my feet, they and the bags are halfway to the exit.
Halfway To The Exit, good name for a memoir.
3.07pm. We’re home. IT isn’t very far.
“Let’s go,” says Sam.
“What?” I respond.
“It is always about these guys.”
I was already on the couch mentally, I had my shoes off and everything. “But… what?” I looked at the couch. I looked at Sam.
So, apparently, no rest for the wicked, as they say. Ha ha, I laugh at myself. Sitting around while other people shop. My head spun, as I my thoughts did a 180.
3.19pm. We walk the bulldogs to Carlton Gardens.
A group of girls pass us in [name of] Street. One of them looks at Buddy and then says to her friends, “He’s having a hard time.”
I find that infuriating. No, he’s not having a hard time of it. And the rumours spread about bulldogs
We see what may have been an Austin 7 (not sure) parked in Gertrude Street. It is adorable, whatever it is.
Buddy stops in the middle of a group of people and gets that ‘okay, pat me attitude,’ as he looks up at them. They point at me and tell him where I am.
“No, he is angling for a pat,” I say. “He knows where I am."
They laugh and all four of them pat him. I can almost see Bud smile.
The wind picks up and it is quite cold. Brrrr. I wish I’d bought a coat.
We head into the Carlton Gardens. The stupid ugly new Sheraton Towers now dominates the skyline. Grrr. The slow and continuing destruction of Melbourne. I shake my head.
We walk down the main road that cuts through the middle of the gardens to the water bowl on the other side, so the boys can have a drink. They push each other out of the way to get a drink.
The sun is shining down on Rathdowne Street, one of the few places that it is, and it is a nice moment of respite from the cold.
I pull my hoodie hood over my head for the walk back. Buddy and I toddle back in the direction of home. Bruno and Sam walk ahead.
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