Get a budgie in Melbourne Diaries

Enjoying a break while several major tasks are on hold, so thought I’d update my PB site – that and improve my game on Words With Friends.

I am now officially moved in to my new place, with the settlement finalised and most of my stuff unpacked. To my delight, I finally have enough shelf space for my books and cupboard space for my DVDs, neither of which has been possible for years. In fact, the place seems to have been built for an academic type (which I’m not any more, with bookshelves making up most of the lounge room wall. I’ve also got the TV aerial working and the fridge and washing machine installed.
However, there are several problems with the place which have only just revealed themselves. The electricity seems to have a logic all to its own, with some able to be switched on through multiple switches and other dead to the world. The plumbing has a similar MC Escher logic to it, with some taps switching off midstream for no reason at all. Nevertheless, I have a lifetime to rectify such faults and no property managers, sudden inspections or lazy landlords to deal with.

My new suburb of Eltham is an oddity as well. It’s often referred to as an ‘enclave’, and for several reason. For one thing, it’s a predominantly white community unaffected by the demographic changes in the rest of Melbourne (where Asian families are buying properties at an increasing rate). Nor are there any large apartment blocks or other massive housing developments under construction throughout the city. The people walking around are a combination of young families, retirees and gypsy-like women wearing rags and beads who probably live in the writer’s community. It’s part of the ‘green wedge’ – every garden is thick with native gum trees, scrub and parrots and my house backs onto a reserve, stretches of bushland divide the streets. And it’s unrelentingly hilly, with barely 10 metres of flat ground anywhere in the suburb and sharp climbs requiring me to drive in second or even first gear. Buildings are often multi-level constructions built on inclines, so that they look like they are giant wooden beasts slowly crawling uphill. My own house is perched on top of one of the many small but steep hills in the areas, and, after years beside the beach, this has been a bit of a shock to my running – it’ll be a small triumph when I reach the end of my street without feeling physically ill.

One thing that has affected me a little is the comparative silence of the place. Ten years ago when I was living in an apartment (shared and alone at intervening times), you used to hear you neighbours all the time, whether shouting, cooking, playing music, fucking and whatever else. Over time and newer, better, accommodation, I am becoming more isolated from such sounds. After work last Monday, I even felt a bit spooked by being unable to hear any other human voice – like I’ve bought myself a cave. Thinking of getting a couple of budgies as pets (wow, now I am homeowner I can actually own pets) just to enjoy listening to their twittering and bell ringing when I get back from work. A bit of a pathetic stopgap to any human companionship, but hey, there are those ads for Chinese and Russian women at the side of my PB page (and yes I’m kidding).