When one thinks of Melbourne’s inner suburbs, one might imagine gentrified streets full of yuppies sipping lattes as they admire the street furniture and watch the crowds and trams pass by. But they’re not all like that.
Yesterday I journeyed into the industrial heart of Port Melbourne, to return the rental keys. Gawd knows why the (new) agents decided to put their head office out there in the middle of nowhere, so far from the residential properties they manage.
It’s a long walk from the 109 to Fennell Street. Thankfully it wasn’t raining.
I wandered down streets without any footpaths, where the car is king.
There were factories for unidentified industries, with mysterious refinery-like devices within their walls.
There was a semi-trailer, parked but its engine running, its driver in the driver’s seat, head down, asleep at the wheel.
Eventually I found the office. The two women at reception looked extremely surprised to have a visitor.
As I filled out the form, I spotted a notice referring to other offices. In more convenient, gentrified, quicker to get to, inner suburbs. (Why the hell didn’t I check that first?!)
Then I trudged back to the tram.