Another trip (more pleasant this time) and another fellow-passenger out of context.

I sat down on a train a couple of weeks ago, and flicked through the MX. I looked up and saw a familiar face in a nearby seat. Who is that? Oh.

So I went over and said “Hi Dad.”

Hadn’t seen him in a while, and I’d been under the impression that we wasn’t getting out very much at present, so it was a surprise to me to find him heading to the other side of town on an excursion. We had a little chat till he got off the train a few stops later, heading for a favourite secondhand bookshop.

A month or two back while heading home I ran into my mum on a train. Those sorts of pleasant surprises happen from time to time.

There’s some great art in the “Platform” space in the Campbell Arcade at Flinders Street Station this week: Chocolate Revolution.

Apparently it’s all for sale, too, though it’s quite expensive. Still, I like it.

My mate Brian sums up my attitude to cars quite nicely: “a car is just an airconditioner on wheels!”

On Saturday I washed the exterior my car for… ooh, the first time in a year, I reckon. I vaccuum the inside of it every few months, but the outside I’ve really let go. The birds had been using it for target practice, and though roadworthy (I hope!) and reliable, it was quite definitely the dirtiest car in the street.

It’s funny to think that in the years I’ve had it, I started out cleaning it weekly, but that quickly slipped to closer to monthly, and now it’s about annual. It’s not just the water restrictions in place; it’s also the fact that I moved to a place with a gravelly-sandy driveway, and I have no wish to reduce it to mud.

But having noted the appalling state of the thing, I took it to one of those self-service cleaning places. For just a few dollars, I was able to get most of the gunk on it, and while it’s not perfect, it’s much better than it was. Hell, it’s actually shiny now for the first time in ages.

And how did the car reward me? By producing steam on the way home today. A leaking hose pipe, and the RACV man urged me to get them all looked at, pronto.

Bloody cars.

As someone who has lived in the Bagel Belt for most of my life, I’m somewhat shocked to hear of the alleged racist attack on a Jewish man in Balaclava Road last Saturday by some mindless idiots on a football club trip.

The operations manager of the football league involved said: “It was a trip to the races. It’s difficult to control all those situations.”

Maybe, maybe not. But it’s the root cause that concerns me. These guys apparently have the attitude that different cultures are to be abused, harrassed, shouted at, and assaulted. How does that happen? It may not be the team management’s fault, but in no way should they be trying to make excuses, and it wouldn’t hurt them to send the team to some counselling so they can learn what is acceptable behaviour in our multicultural society.

• Victim Menachem Vorchheimer says: I am an Australian through and through, and PROUD.
• Country footballers who racially abused and punched a Jew should visit the Holocaust Centre, Jewish leaders said yesterday.

And…

Speaking of ratbags, I missed my train on Monday night, and was trying to beat it round the loop by boarding a Werribee train to Parliament. A bunch of yoofs also got on board. I try not to be judgemental, but it was pretty obvious to everyone that these were ferals of the worst degree. Some youngsters are just raucous, but this lot were being deliberately obnoxious. In the 2-3 minutes I shared a train carriage with them, they were shouting, screaming, and then launched into a classic little ditty that begins “What’s the colour of a two cent piece? Copper… Copper…”

Whether or not they’re old enough to remember two cent pieces, I don’t know. Suddenly I was hoping they ran into some coppers themselves, or at least a train security patrol, who would bring them into line.

I got off the train at Parliament, pitying those who were travelling further with them.

What happened next? Well I heard later that out near Laverton they ended up verbally insulting an old lady, and a number of other passengers felt threatened enough to complain to the police.

You know, it’s only one in a hundred train rides that is genuinely unpleasant like this one was. But you can see why that one bad experience puts people off.

Spotted at DJ’s on Friday night: Christmas decorations about to go up.

My camera has come back from its European holiday with Justine. Even better, due to an incident with some water, it’s got fresh (and better) rechargable batteries, and since the memory card got filled up, it’s come back with another card as well. I really should lend my camera to Justine more often.

Looks like it saw some spectacular places. Here’s a couple of them, from Italy:

Pics courtesy of Justine, naturally.

I just saw someone get hit by a car.

He bounced off the bonnet of a dark-coloured Porsche (UCD-852) that had zoomed through the intersection as the light turned red. The man hit the footpath and ran into the nearby supermarket. The car stopped, and the driver got out and chased after him.

I found them in an aisle, the driver insisting the man go to hospital and that they exchange details; the man insisting he was okay, just a graze, just a scratch.

I think they both got a shock. I know I did. From what I saw, they were both at fault, and hopefully will be more careful next time.

One day I’ll get the whole get-out-of-bed-and-out-of-the-house thing figured out.

If I want to get the kids to school by 8:50, we need to leave by 8:40.

If we need to leave by 8:40, I need to be getting dressed by 8:25.

If I need to be getting dressed by 8:25, I need to be in the shower by 8:20.

If I need to be in the shower by 8:20, I need to start shaving by 8:15.

If I need to start shaving by 8:15, I need to be putting lunches together and packing bags by 8:05.

The other day it all slipped by about 10 minutes. I’m not sure why, if I’m shaving at 8:25, it’s not apparent to me that we’re going to be late if I don’t get my arse into gear. I think perhaps subconsciously that my brain reasons that shaving, showering, dressing etc are all so easy that I should be able to get through them super-fast without even trying.