I was blessed with a day off this week, and then I became ill with the worst disease know to mankind. Yep, another mancold. Such are the joys of working with the public. Fortunately the symptoms did not appear until the night of my day off.
Tantalised by our car trip to Hampton Street, Hampton over Easter, I decided to revisit by train. Tram to Prahran and then train to Hampton on the Sandringham line. The train stopped at Balaclava and I checked and concluded that the platform is wide enough to store travellers intending, so there must be too few trains. Between certain hours, a five to seven minute service is necessary. Boom gates along this line are quickly responsive and the delay to traffic would be minimal.
Hampton is the old Australia. It is a very middle class and well educated bastion of times past, yet it will go on. Not too many of your foreign types in Hampton. Being only twenty five minutes by train from the city on a decent train line makes it a very desirable place to live. While there must be those in between, I saw young women with prams containing, surprise, babies, while their husbands were probably working somewhere in town probably having driven to there workplace in their Audi. There were also the remnants of the old Hampton, very old women, some well dressed, some badly dressed, but all very comfortable in Hampton. I don't think I saw one young man walking oddly because he was wearing ever so tight jeans where the waist band sat half way down the cheeks of his arse and the crotch of the jean around his mid thigh.
The caring middle class ladies of Hampton stepped up to the crease though when one of their own collapsed in the street. They surrounded her with their caring presence until the ambulance arrived.
I just wandered the streets for a bit. While I am getting better at feeling comfortable in the alien territory of Melbourne's north or west side, I felt very relaxed in Hampton. Not a beggar to bother me at all.
I then caught the train to town and the tram to Brunswick Street to get my hair cut. While standing at the tramstop to go back to town, I could not help but consider the different worlds of Hampton and Fitzroy. It has always been thus but now they are much more financially matched than they have ever been.
What is this thing called, love? I have no idea what its purpose is. Let's just say it is a folly. It clearly was not originally,but we can now consider it to be a folly. Just don't let planning minister Madden know about it.
This flatblock would be vintage Elwood. Nice symmetry. Along the beach front from St Kilda to Mordialloc there are very few original houses left. They are nearly all modern and trying to get the best view of the bay.
What is this flowering grass? I am suddenly seeing it everywhere. Doesn't it have seeds that will spread all over the country and become a noxious weed?
This is a very un Australian house. How has it survived on the beachfront? I don't think it will survive for much longer. While it is an ugly bugger, let it last a few more years. See the red brickwork along a bit. The holy grail.
A train that runs along the coast with the sea to gaze upon out the train window.
It is taking time to repair the fire damage at Gardenvale Station. It was burnt at the end of last year. The alleged fire lighters were nicked.