Thursday, July 22, 2004

A new route.

My partner walks a slightly different route to the train station than me (I?). Last night while out for a walk with our silly sausage dog he took me along his route to show me something that has brightened up his commuting stroll every day for the last few weeks.

There, nestled under a small tree on the footpath outside the local Old People's Home, was an empty box of Viagra.

Beautiful.

Friday, July 16, 2004

Australis Slappicus

I have to admit that, whilst I generously think of myself as a person with reasonably broad general knowledge, I am not at all 'au fait' with the world of cosmetics. Don't get me wrong, I know basic hygiene, but beyond washing, deodorant, moisturiser, perfume and the concealment of any offending blemishes my 'beauty regime' is non-existent.

Not so for one of my companions on my train journey this morning.

I boarded the train at my now usual stop and was greeted with the sight of a glorious specimen of that not so rare or beautiful species known as 'Australis Slappicus'.

Resplendent in the uniform of black bootleg pants and white hoodie cardigan (probably not the trendy way to describe it at all), open to display a bright pink singlet whose main function I suspect was the use of colour to attract attention to cleavage. This sartorial elegance was further enhanced by the tasteful display of a large playboy bunny logo necklace and matching bright pink 'playboy brand' handbag.

Her hair, as is required for all members of this species, was long, straight and bright blonde with gorgeous dark regrowth flourishing at the top.

But enough with descriptions. What caught my eye was that Ms Slappicus was intently focussed on her beauty regime - specifically her eyelashes. I watched, enthralled for the ENTIRETY (I kid you not) of the 15 minute train ride as she, bright pink cut-throat nails delicately clasping her compact mirror, primped and preened her eyelashes. At first I thought, 'fair enough, you're obviously running late' - it's not uncommon to see women hastily doing their makeup as they catch their breath on the train on the way to work. As the minutes ticked by however, and Ms S produced first a black (mascara?) thing and then a white one from her bag, I realised that this was no normal hasty makeup sesh. She would use one then the other, and then repeat the process (forgive me for drawing on my basic knowledge of the colour spectrum but I thought this might have been somewhat pointless - unless grey was her desired result?). About halfway through she produced from her pink bag something that looked like an old-fashioned torture device but which she used to (curl?) her eyelashes. She then started the whole process again - repeating it at least twice more before we arrived in the city.

As she neared her stop, Ms S carefully placed her tools back in her bag, checked her bright pink mobile for text messages (in case she hadn't heard the messages from the hordes of admirers) and then - wait for it - placed her extremely fashionable post-Anastacia/ current-Posh Spice brown and clear sunglasses on....completely covering her eyes with the brown half. Good to see that the youth of today are spending their time on worthwhile pursuits.

(I'm probably just jealous).

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Changing allegiances.

Well, I have had to bid farewell to Tourettes Man and the other regulars on Route #59. I moved house on Saturday and am now splitting my public transport loyalties between tram AND train (i'm such a rebel).

It is interesting being able to 'compare and contrast' the two modes - and the accepted social standards on both.

On tram, for example, on an empty booth of 2 lots of 2 seats, many people will rather sit next to each other than have to sit opposite one another and risk - god forbid - eye contact. On the upside, if someone with a pram or trundler gets on, others will move to help them without fail.

On a train, however, people seem to consider it their solemn duty to studiously pretend that no one else in the carriage exists...even when they are busy reading the back of those other people's newspapers - a popular past-time for morning commuters. The increased noise also seems to cover a lot of the 'quirks' of many people - you mostly can't hear them talking to themselves. I have often thought though that people with this tendency could just put a hands-free mobile phone earpiece in their ear and blend right in with the rest of the phone enthusiasts - who i personally think look a damn sight more silly because they are CHOOSING to look like they are talking to themselves.

But enough rambling, I have a lecture to prepare and an early train to catch tomorrow. Goodnight.