When I was a kid, well teenager, also had a bedroom along the side of our house. My sister had a bedroom with a view of the backyard.
Yes, this is a second child syndrome moment because, it is what it is.
My view was of a grey fence that actually also had racks added so my dad could store his extra timber, metal and god knows what else. Like the double garage wasn’t big enough.
The neighbours loved to work late into the night over the fence in their carport on their cars. So, bright lights and late nights aplenty.
I recall a brief time, my older sister and I slept in a caravan behind our Aunt’s house, mum and dad were on a mattress in their big back room. My parents were building the house I grew up in. I lived in that house until I was nineteen.
In that bedroom that was view-less, having moved out of home to move to Melbourne to be a poor art student. I’ve moved many times. Have I counted? Yes. I’ve got to find my list. Then add a few places to it. But I hate moving and I finally have a reasonable view.
Ok, now I can see other people on their balconies and other apartments. But I have a view.
So, there is a place I go for free services. It’s a NGO (sorry, did it again! Non-Government Organisation or Not-For-Profit).
They have a board and committee meetings monthly. Not for us to attend and they provide free services to people who live in the region, to people ON low income. It is near the 3 Towers in Collingwood, which are the high-rise flats for Public Housing.
The board and the two people who work there and everything else is done be volunteers. I have been recently getting my Carpel Tunnel attended to by RMIT (Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology) biotherapy/massage students. Awesome!
The other services include free chiropractors, acupuncture and Shiatzu (which I also use).
I walked in the door today to my usual warm greeting. “Hello Ms Helen, Helen is in da house!”
It’s nice to feel loved.
And heading towards the bathrooms I encounter a regular – Nigel (I’m throwing him under the bus as he’s going to be credited for his words of wisdom).
Nigel had rubber gloves on and a bucket of cleaning products. He was in the process of cleaning the shower and the toilet.
I made an appropriate comment. I thought.
“That’s what we like to see, a man doing the cleaning!”
Is that sexual harassment?
But he did one better with this,
“Never heard of a man being shot while vacuuming?”