It's very early morning at "Riverbend". There's been some light rain overnight and as I cook my porridge and look out the window, the morning looks all cool and green. It's all porridge and petrichor.
In moments like this I wonder if I could ever live anywhere else again. No neighbours, no noise, no nothing - just peace and quiet and plenty of space to be myself and be by myself. And then there's the added problem in a new place of finding a new car mechanic I can trust, a new GP who knows the difference between modern medicine and over-servicing, a new dentist who's happy enough to accept the declining business of looking after my last few teeth, and a new handyman who turns up on time.
And then there's the weekly trip into town when I can never cross the street or enter a club without someone calling out to me, "How ya goin' mate?" Before I realise it I've just spent another hour chatting away with someone I wouldn't have given the time of day to when I first came here thirty years ago. Even the op-shops now know my taste in books and DVDs and always keep some at the back of the shop just for me.
And I can't let you go without first telling you about the etymology of the ubiquitous "How ya goin' mate?" It all started back in 1788 with all those hundreds of male convicts and an acute scarcity of females. The convicts' constant concern was "How ya goin' to mate?" Over time they dropped the "to" and it became "How ya goin' mate?" - a bit like when they changed the "God be with you" into "Goodbye"; I bet you didn't know that either!
So, without wanting to get too personal, tell me: "How ya goin' mate?"
