I catch the "tram" in Sydney ...

... not really a tram but let's leave that be.
Today a man was hit by a tram, in Haymarket. I don't want to come across as a hard-hearted bitch but that's the stop where I catch my ride home, and I can guess exactly how that accident happened. It's been waiting to happen for years.
Despite the tram ringing it's bell and honking it's horn, all along that section of road, people just cross in droves. Young, old, infirm, pushing prams, dragging children or suitcases on wheels. Nobody looks, everybody expects to make it, or thinks the tram will somehow manage to stop in time.
No, I wasn't there to witness the accident, but I'd put money down in a bet the driver was completely faultless.

In which we are annoyed and inconvenienced ...

... or at least we would be, if I had one of those difficult relationships with my mother or if Mr Brown had a more traditional relationship with his mother-in-law*.
My mum comes into town to work on the local rag Wednesday and Thursday. Because it's a hell of a trip (involving car, ferry, train & light rail) from her place to town, she stays with us Wednesday night.
We have a nice dinner, several glasses of wine and chat. She washes up Thursday morning!
The papal chaos that is Sydney this week somehow means she can't make it home after work on Thursday. So we get her an extra night. One trusts she'll wash up Friday morning too!

* as it happens they get on rather well, too well. He's convinced she'd side with him should we ever break up. She promises me not but he doesn't believe it!

Even I don't think ...

... this proposed strike by the Rail, Train & Bus Union folk is a good idea.
Well, to be totally honest, evil me is gleeful but sensible me thinks it's just a just a little unfair to deliberately cause such chaos.

This morning ...

… on the train in to work I saw the big white cat at the Wentworth Park stop.
He was up on the bench out of the rain, all bunched up like a meat loaf, eyes squeezed shut. I wish I had my camera.

Image by Kliban.

What I should have said ...

... to the man picking the sleep out of his eyes on the train this morning. "Wash your face before you leave the house you grub!".
What I actually did was turn to the window, quietly gagging.