At 7.42am my day arrives at the platform. I board – willing but not thrilled. My day passes without strenuous effort, save the mandatory hellos and goodbyes. Untaxing, I help with taxes.
At 5.22pm my evening begins at Flinders Street; with a goose-step I find my seat and my bookmark .
2 stops before I reach home, a child of no more than 4 years is singing “London bridge is burning down, burning down…”
He has practised, you can tell. He continues without missing a line. And he is proud, you can tell.
Written 27th February 2016