There’s a guy at Long Reef who I think needs to up his meds. I know. I take them. A few weeks back he was skateboarding along Pittwater Road, taking up a whole lane. Skateboarding. Pittwater Road. Peeps – that’s the main six lane carpark trainwreck main arterial road for the entire Sydney population to come visit the insular peninsula and see how 90% of the city’s tradies live. You could go Wakehurst Parkway but if there’s been a light sprinkle of rain anytime in the previous month season 24 hours it’s probably closed due to flooding.
So there he is, with a lunatic smile on his face, skateboarding.
Yesterday he was there again. But riding a bike. A kids bike.
Lunatic smile in place.
Today as I was heading home from seeing mum I saw him walking along the footpath, skateboard under arm.
Ready to raise another afternoon of hell for commuters.
There’s a woman in my suburb burning it up with her crutches.
I don’t know what surgery she’s had, but by crikey she’s committed to her rehab.
We were sitting at some lights today and I was marvelling at this woman erring on the side of elderly with perfectly coiffured hair which was testimony to her commitment to hot curlers in some understated but clearly expensive denim wear toter across the road in a spectacular pair of gold sandals when my gaze fell to the driver in the car next to me. Resplendent in full Santa costume.
Realising it was a really dumb idea to start making peach jam at 10pm.
Remembering why I don’t do craft. The idea I have in my head, the execution of said idea and just how the final result appears are so far removed from each other I guess you could call it impressive. In one of those resoundingly underwhelming impressives.