Sproutings Life - Sunday evening, Labour Day weekend, 2024
Snapshot of a hot early evening at East Brunswick Village, March 2024
It’s the Labour Day long weekend.
It’s the Sunday and it’s 36.3 °C at 6:11 pm in Brunswick East.
After 37 °C yesterday.
And with 37 °C forecast for tomorrow.
(Yes, hot weather like this has occurred before. And yes, we can expect hot weather like this to occur more frequently as Earth’s climate changes. And yes, we can expect not only warmer average conditions, but more frequent extreme events and more extreme extreme events.)
On the Labour Day weekend last year, Bluestone Way was a construction site (see photo). Tonight, it is quietly alive.
On Nicholson Street, the #96 tram rumbles past.
Five parties sit outside at Bridge Road Brewery. A similar number sit outside at The Rocket Society. And a steady stream of punters moves in and out of FOMO cinemas.
“Dune 2” has drawn some comment in my circles. Sitting here reminds me that I would like to watch “Dune” at some point. Or to read the books. The original “Dune” was screening at FOMO earlier in the month. I missed that.
I like that classic old movies are shown again on the big screen at FOMO cinemas. One oldie that I was disappointed to miss last month was “Death in Brunswick.” Tonight’s old classic is “Singing in the rain.”
Two women exit the cinema and turn to the south.
“Ugggghhhhhh! It’s still SO HOT!”
“Oh, we have been sitting in LUXURY!”
A man walks past heading north. He wears all white except for his shoes, which are blue suede boots.
Bluestone Way is in shade at this hour, but the air is warm and still. A toddler leads her mum on a merry dance around the laneway.
And here are B and T. Our children were primary school friends. We’ve been in each other’s orbit for maybe ten years.
“Hey Dave. What are you up to?”
“Oh, checking out the scene. What about you?”
It’s good to see them. Though it seems they are in a small hurry.
“Oh, we pretty much live at the brewery now. Good to see you – we’re actually a bit late.”
They head off to meet others, walking over today’s temporary hopscotch arena, drawn in unsteady amateur hand in coloured chalk. As they reach the doors, they walk past a Big Unit who is demolishing a pizza.
And here is B – carrying empty shopping bags towards the supermarket. We have been friends since the late 90s.
“Hey Dave. How’s things?”
“Hey B. Great. Just checking things out here. Observing, writing.”
“Oh, I love that.”
He and his family live nearby. Our conversation goes on to explore shopping, Dune, Dune 2, IMAX, and digital film versus film film. And more.
Many more people sit inside the brewery tonight, rather than outside, taking advantage of the miracle of air conditioning.
On the Nicholson Street side, a few parties spread outside. Three women sit around a table in front of half-empty plates.
“Oh my GOD!”
“Whoah! So…. Will you bid at the auction?”
Two families spread across a single long table.
“Is that the one on Park Street?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s it!”
The #96 rumbles past.
Behind the tram, on the road, a bearded young man rides his bike in a relaxed way on the near-empty street. His bike seat is way too low for his body configuration, for the length of his limbs. He drinks from a slurpee as he rides, and instead of a helmet, he wears a navy blue cap turned backwards. He scans to the right, spots a familiar face and zig-zags across to the far side of the road.
On the far side stands a middle-aged man wearing only a pair of long brown shorts. His bare torso is pale and sags with the story and responsibility of years. He leans against his brick fence with one foot raised behind him, tucked up close to his bum. A cigarette burns in the fingers of his right hand.
It is hot.
To the north, a young couple walks past. She is impossibly glamorous – her mane of curly golden hair bounces above a taught, trim, figure-hugging dress. Her legs stretch away. He lopes along next to her in baggy shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, many sizes too large for him.
Over the road, beard on the bike bots a cigarette from old bare chest. He perches on his bike seat while they talk with their hands. The sun is low in the sky.
I look around. Pizzas seem to have been the order of the hot, hot evening. I finish my pot. It’s been a big year.
The #96 rumbles past.
The view down Bluestone Way, 11 March 2023.