City life

City life

Feelings about the city? Mine are decidedly mixed.

On the one hand, culture and excellent eating choices and some truly delightful urban spaces. On the other hand traffic.

Many a time, driving to the city, because although I really like the environment I don’t know how to Myki and also Frankston is my nearest station, I have entertained the fantasy of completing whatever thing I am in the city to achieve and then booking myself into a city hotel. Do not pass go, just drive straight up to the valet and check myself the yes warrior in.

TV at the end of the bed. Uninterrupted, deep hotel silence sleep.
City parks beckoning in the morning. Buffet breakfast, people.
Being deposited, first thing should I choose, into the buzzing heart of the city.

Is this dream about the city or more about a steady desire to speak to no other humans for a 24 hour period? You decide.

But every so often, once the 45 laps searching for a street park have been exhausted and you’ve caved and parked in a multi-storey car park with no respect for the fact that we’re from the urban fringe and have children and thus it is in our DNA and the rule book to drive big cars. Where was I? That’s right: I was parking in a tiny car space and clambering over the centre console whilst wearing fancy culottes to exit out of the passenger door because that was the only option.

But then I was breathing out the angst of the city drivers, turning eyes to the mid-winter sky and thinking “hey, this is pretty pretty.”

Sometimes you’re all right, city.

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