As I type, dear friends of mine are celebrating their house warming, in a house that used to be mine.May all tenants of the illustrious Clarke St revel in the joy which is a small house whose owners seem not to notice you’re there.
Judging from the pictures, the flowers are doing just fine without me.
So, how am I doing without the flowers?
Arguably, a combination of could be worse, better than expected and hopeful for the future.
I went for another ride this afternoon, to my Sunday Somewhere New, though I can’t say I saw another soul on a bike, which seemed kind of odd. Of course, the bike lanes left a little to be desired, so I’m guessing I wasn’t really heading to bike paradise. Either that, or no one shops for antiques or gets creepy, rapey massages in Paddington on their bike. People who like that shit have cars. So, really not that much to complain about, really.
I’ve settled into a nice morning rhythm, with almost the shortest imaginable commute – some seven whole minutes if the lights are working in my favour. Seems almost not worth it and, indeed, I’ve had to commit to walking a few mornings a week as it seems strangely indulgent to travel so short a distance on the bike.
As short as it is, I have to admit that I have a lovely view, straight up one side the Brisbane River, then back down the other side. Sure, I could probably swim across the river for exercise, but it seems not a good idea with these City Cat things jotting about all the time. Sometimes I detour up to the Southbank Arts precinct, to ride past some culture.
For a little while at least though, I’m giving up on my fellow commuters.
It’s taken me quite a few weeks, but I’ve finally worked out a few important things about Brisbane commuters which impact on the likelihood that I’ll snap them looking cute and friendly:
1. In seven whole minutes, I don’t see that many of them.
2. It’s too hot in Brisbane almost all of the time to wear anything much but ugly practical lycra. Or weirdly over-enthusiast scary-pants lycra. (Are the arm warmers for sun protection?) I look freaking awful and practical on my bike at the moment. And my office has very poor change facilities, so the whole morning can be a bit of an ordeal. (All this hard hot sweaty work for seven unsatisfying minutes. It’s like the early days of my sex life.)
3. The Brisbane River bike path is nuts. There’s so many lanes, which keep changing from being dual paths shared by bikes and pedestrians, back to single lanes for pedestrians and two way traffic for bikes. You can’t pull up besides someone without nearly killing yourself. I like helmets, but not that much.
eleanor j jackson 