Summer dreams, ripped at the seams...

A new dawn and a new university semester. Ohmigod, I'm a third-year student. That's the realisation that came to us during the first session of sociallist potato-goods-consumption for the year. You know, where everyone puts in what they can to the notional hash-brown/chips fund and each is entitled to an equal share, regardless of their contribution. It was a respectable turn out of the Manning House Couch crew, minus the couch. Damn first year kids, taking our damn couch. Bah! We will have our vengeance...

Officially, I don't share any more classes with those good folk. While they complete the last few senior units in their science degrees, I'm treading water in the education half of my combined degree. But while I can't actually enrol in PHYS3040 this semester, I've decided that with all my free time - free time that as a science student, I'm not at all used to - I'll sit in on the lectures anyway. Yeah, it's pretty nerdy. But think about it: learning for free with no pressure from assessment and exams. Sweet. And it'll set me up for when I take it up in first semester next year.

Meanwhile, coming home from the first day back at uni wasn't without its drama. Just after leaving Milson's Point, the ferry I was on broke down. RiverCat Marlene Matthews lost her starboard engine and spluttered around off Blues Point before eventually limping back to the McMahon's Point wharf. But the powers that be despatched a relatively petite HarbourCat Anne Sargeant to fill in and amazingly, she got us home only ten minutes late.


The Red Ensign flying from Anne Sargeant's stern.

The ferry takes around twice as long to get me home than the train does, but it's so much more pleasant. And it doesn't matter if the ferry isn't air-conditioned because there's almost always a nice sea breeze blowing up the river. Generally though, I just love the water. So much so that being a sailorman in the navy was second on my list after being a teacher.

I drifted off into a bit of a daydream on Anne Sargeant's aft open deck. It might've been the scent of salt on the air, or maybe I'd just had too much sun. But y'know, I've given up on owning my own home, and despite the astronomical cost of housing in this city, I don't think I could leave it. We might be wankers, but I like it here. And without a family and kids of my own to provide for, I've decided that instead I'm going to sink my meagre future teaching salary into a boat. Something small, about eighteen to twenty-five feet, single mast, and some decent internal accomodation. I'll snatch up a mooring somewhere up river from the city, near Shepherds or Brays Bays, and sail around between school terms, Pacey Witter-style. Of course, I'd give my boat a less pussier name than True Love.


Listening to:
Title: Danse Macabre
Artist: Kraak & Smaak
Album/station: Ministry of Sound: Chillout Sessions, Vol. 8 (2005)
Length: 5.13