A confession – I’m a bit of a homebody.
On weekdays, once work is over I like to return directly home. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200. I walk quickly and swiftly from the train station and breathe out a little as soon as I walk through the apartment doors.
Going out at night mid-week tends to throw my entire week off.
Last Wednesday was one such night. I had put off going to the hairdressers for months, but with our wedding fast approaching (just two weeks away!) I couldn’t ignore my brassy roots any longer.
Whilst it had been a hot day, over 37 degrees, when I emerged from the hairdressers, blonder and more relaxed than when I’d walked in two and a half hours earlier, I was surprised to find it was still very warm.
Despite the fact that the sun doesn’t usually make it past about 8pm in the height of Melbourne’s summer, this evening it appeared to be taking its time to descend. The soft glow of twilight around me seemed to hang, as if suspended in time. It was the kind of half-light that could have meant it was early morning.
Given that it was already late, I slowed my pace. It occurred to me that whilst I’ll happily meander all day in Paris, in Melbourne I walk entirely with purpose. I don’t stop to look around, or to take in the day. So tonight, I walked the short distance home in silence. No headphones, no ipod, no simultaneous walk and facebook status update action, no phone call to my mother to help pass the time.
It was glorious.
The changing light bathed the leaves of the Greville Street trees in a soft blue glow; I passed a young woman in lime green pants walking a cat; an elderly couple had taken their deck chairs out the front of their. Up ahead I could see that the traffic light was about to change. Where usually I would have sprinted to catch it, afraid of losing precious time, I slowed my pace again. Nothing would rush me this evening.