Walk in My Redundant Shoes
advertisment
Related Content
- Take a Walk on the Wild Side (14/08/2007)
- Run, Don't Walk, to Work (21/05/2008)
We are having a wet winter in Sydney. Today I braved the elements to make the hike into the city for my yoga class. We used to live in an inner-city neighbourhood and I walked everywhere. No one who lives in the inner-city really needs a car, and besides, where would you park it?
Four months ago, we moved across the Bridge (that’s the Harbour Bridge to the rest of you non-Sydneysiders) to an upmarket neighbourhood which is known for its financial industry inhabitants, and where no one walks anywhere. Weekend public transport is a challenge here.
Today my struggle involved walking 1km up a steep slope to the main road where there are actually buses running into the city. I balanced my umbrella, yoga mat, exercise bag and tried to avoid being splashed by cars that drove past. Every time I reach the top of that slope, I am convinced I am experiencing painful heart constrictions, possibly the prelude to a cardiac attack, and I tell myself that is why I have to go to yoga more often, do more exercise, and try to get fitter.
We tell ourselves whenever we trudge along the streets of our neighbourhood on our way to the supermarket or the cafes that we are actually doing our part to save the earth. Our carbon footprint is much less than those people who zoom around in their huge SUVs, and we are also trimmer and fitter as we get so much incidental exercise as well (debatable, but still). This conversation inevitably leads to our arguing the other side as well, and our justification for getting - no, deserving a car - so far relates to our age, years of slogging, and easier access to more recreational activities.
We think they are pretty compelling factors but the Boy, being the financially-prudent person he is, is delaying the decision until I’ve successfully rejoined the workforce. Apparently my redundancy payout is not for buying a car or partially funding a deposit on a small apartment or some minor cosmetic surgery to regain some youth I’ve donated to my last job.
So until then, I’ll keep trudging up those slopes and memorising the bus time-tables.
Today my struggle involved walking 1km up a steep slope to the main road where there are actually buses running into the city. I balanced my umbrella, yoga mat, exercise bag and tried to avoid being splashed by cars that drove past. Every time I reach the top of that slope, I am convinced I am experiencing painful heart constrictions, possibly the prelude to a cardiac attack, and I tell myself that is why I have to go to yoga more often, do more exercise, and try to get fitter.
We tell ourselves whenever we trudge along the streets of our neighbourhood on our way to the supermarket or the cafes that we are actually doing our part to save the earth. Our carbon footprint is much less than those people who zoom around in their huge SUVs, and we are also trimmer and fitter as we get so much incidental exercise as well (debatable, but still). This conversation inevitably leads to our arguing the other side as well, and our justification for getting - no, deserving a car - so far relates to our age, years of slogging, and easier access to more recreational activities.
We think they are pretty compelling factors but the Boy, being the financially-prudent person he is, is delaying the decision until I’ve successfully rejoined the workforce. Apparently my redundancy payout is not for buying a car or partially funding a deposit on a small apartment or some minor cosmetic surgery to regain some youth I’ve donated to my last job.
So until then, I’ll keep trudging up those slopes and memorising the bus time-tables.
Here Is The Writer : bobo-gal
bobo-gal is a Sydney-based bourgeoisie-bohemian masquerading as a corporate suit in financial services for the last 12 years. She has been constantly dreaming of having a flea market stall selling crafts and baked goods, and trawling auction houses for vintage furniture to re-sell to city workers with too much money and too little time. However, with her imminent departure from her job in the city, she might soon be just bo-gal, having to drop the bourgeoisie portion of her name as she dabbles in reupholstering chairs.
view more articles by bobo-gal
