Aaah yes public transport. How I missed it. (to be read with a huge amount of sarcasm).
My car was being serviced on Wednesday so Mr Chic kindly drove me to work. I then declared that I would walk to the station and catch the train home in the evening. Clearly I was on some kind of mind-altering drugs when I suggested this. It ended up being a 25 minute walk to the station, most of the walk there was no path, but merely rocks. At one point the road seemed to be vertical and I was thankful that I was walking downhill. My feet were not happy, my knees were not happy. But I made it to the station with plenty of time for the train.
I decided the safest place to stand on the station was in front of the station police-station (oh yes I'm serious). The station isn't that rough really, I'd just never been there before, well not for about a million years.
The train arrives and I choose a seat next to sleeper-boy, disappointed I didn't have a window seat. The train was an express and in 2 stations I'd be getting off. However that was in 45 minutes time so I really wanted a window seat and space to myself. Next station and I had a seat to myself, a window seat and it was on the left hand side of the train. Perfect. Now I could relax.
And then I noticed the music, and the clinking of bottles. Was I aboard the electric pub train? *sigh* ok, so the music is loud but it's ok, actually it was a mix of rock music which almost prompted me to ask the owner what the song was as I was almost enjoying it. Almost.
We meandered along the edge of the water, such a pretty view, past the station the size of my car, I day-dreamed about living across the river, totally isolated from the world. I thought the train should slow down so I could try to spot fish amongst the oyster racks and enjoy the tranquility. The tranquility in my mind anyway. The background noise to this was a hard rock song which I believe went something like "die motherf***er die", yes that did seem to be the common reoccuring line.
In and out of tunnels which totally took me back to my childhood of catching the same trainline to the city in the school holidays with my dad. I was always excited by the tunnels. Now they just make my ears hurt. Or perhaps that was the music.
Over the rail bridge and we start the climb up the hill. More tunnels. Oh a new song. Hmmmm much like the previous one. I knew I should have brought my ipod. Sweet relief, the music stops, oh he's on a phone call, no the conversation is not even interesting.
I look out the window, such beautiful bushland we live so close to, it goes for miles, you can hardly see the last bushfire's damage.
The phone call ends, the music starts back up, 'shhhht' a drink gets opened. I could go one myself.
I'm an accountant, wife, mother, business owner and chocolate addict. I love singing and running, but am not real great at either. My idea of therapy is singing my lungs out in the car with the windows up. That, I'm good at.
So there's me, Mr Chic, Crash & Rowdy.
Mr Chic - brilliant father and husband. He works full time in his own business and co-runs the house. He's a great cook and I'd be eating alot of eggs on toast without him!
Crash - my eldest son is 7 and a half. He's a quiet, placid, loving boy who doesn't understand why others can be so mean. Crash, as the name suggests, is a bit clumsy and frequently hurts himself - with 2 trips to the emergency department under our belt, I'm sure there is many more to come.
Rowdy - my youngest son is 6. He's a red-head and a bit firey compared to his older brother. He plays loud games and loves wrestling Crash. It's not unusual to see Rowdy riding through the house on his bike with his "gun" in his hand - either shooting bad-guys or chasing Crash.