So, first up for the throwing-past-writing-up on the blog project: two prose particles from early 2009.
A Tiny Legend.
There are many tiny legends in my new neighbourhood, Warrawong. It’s south of Wollongong, near Port Kembla, a place where lots of migrant families brought up kids and houses and vegie gardens while sweating at the steelworks (or the factory) and by sewing dresses and going to church. A sample of legends include the many old people who walk. Sometimes to bus stops with their old man bags, complete with beret, walking stick, fingerless gloves and sports jackets. Or sensible shoes and skirts. Their slow, daily, out in the world doing their determined thing ways are not seen in the bourgeois neighbourhoods I have more recently been living in, where old people are more likely to be somewhere else, in a home. Sometimes the old people have old dogs. There’s also lots of standing around in front yards watching other people going on here.
The Bread Oven.
Underneath the Portuguese Club there is a bread oven. If you go early in the morning twice a week, and if you know about it, you can be handed a freshly baked, warm and flour-dusty bread. Wrapped with love, slowly slowly, by an older man. It’s three bucks. Tastes unlike any other bread. You have to eat it the same day ‘cos it goes stale but it makes any condiment taste extra amazing.
It is rumoured their secret ingredient is sweet potato.
With thanks again! to the Bedroom Philosopher for his idea of Tiny Legends which prompted this.
Thanks folks, comments welcome.