wind

Today I try some new things. I pack the Red Rocket into the Jazz and head for Blackburn North, park in a backstreet, gear up, sidle out onto the bike path. Walkers are out early; the afternoon will be for sheltering, not walking. The swirling air is warm. The wind picks up as forecast, but it’s nothing on what’s to come.

In the office Comrade S is on the phone to the manager in Sydney. A decision is made to go ahead with next week’s PD; yesterday it was in doubt. My eyes are still gritty from the windy ride into town. At 11:40 I quit the office, pedal into neighbouring Richmond for two open house inspections on from midday till half past.

The apartment at West Richmond Station disappoints big time: pokey upstairs bedroom, no flyscreen on any window, the designated storage area is a hot water service, jerry-built cupboards in the kitchen and not enough of them. I put the helmet back on my bonce, head round to the other place.

The exterior unbecomes: grey besser brick, no character. Four flats downstairs, four up. Up the metal stairs I clack, expecting the worst. The place has character. It’s small but shelves line the walls in the living area and the second bedroom, which could only be an office. I like it, try to picture a life here. No balcony, no outside area, no dog. The owner wants $450k.

The sky is livid, threatens to explode, belligerent wind. I ride the wrong way down one-way Lennox Street, bicycles excepted from its one-wayness. The wind, like a resisting arm, pushes my backward, then flings me sideways more than a metre towards the parked cars. Little Saigon at the crossing of Victoria Street. It sure as hell isn’t Croydon.

Back in the office I make for the shower, direct the jet straight into bloodshot eyes. A huge salad sandwich for lunch. Another cuppa.

I confabulate with Comrade S about our joint production next week: I’ll do all of day one, she all of day two. Out our second-storey window, east up Gipps Street, the sky blackens. The rain arrives.   

By some miracle I ride back to Blackburn on a puddly path without so much as a light shower falling on me. I have the path to myself, push along on the big ring, wondering. Could I live in Richmond? Could I cope with borrowing $450k? Could I live in so small a space?

Rock on.