No North and Definitely No South

Currently Listening To :: I'm Sorry (I Don't Love You No More) :: Craig David

Sunday just past, I realised that I hadn't been to Newtown for as long as I could recall. I have always had fond memories of the suburb - when I was in University, it was the hub of all things I wasn't. It was so far removed from the suburbs that I grew up in, yet I slowly became accustomed to the strangeness, and over time what was once foreign became comfortable, loved even. It was my touchstone with the City, just as the cross streets of George and Liverpool had been during my High School years.

Strolling down the sunny streets of Newtown, I headed for my favourite cafe, taking the same way that I always had. But from afar, something seemed amiss. The usual bustle surrounding it was not there, the traffic that stopped in to take in the traffic strangely absent. As I drew closer, I was shocked to see that the doors were shut, but not just shut as if they would once again reopen, but closed for good.

The glass doors that I had peered both in and out of were boarded up, and I could no longer catch a glimpse inside. Frantically, I tried to see if there was an opening, a hint, and indication that once again the cafe would reopen. When at last I managed to find a crack in the boards, and as I patiently waited for my eyesight to adjust, I was crestfallen to see that there was nothing inside. It was a shell of its former self.

The leather couches where I had once relaxed my weary self. The subdued lighting that made me feel so comfortable. The staff with their mannerisms that infuriated yet you couldn't help but like. My earliest memories of what a cafe SHOULD be, one of the first cafes I called "mine", introduced others to, discovered chai latte's at - it was all gone. I felt listless. As I stood there on the street, I felt as if a part of my Newtown experience had been stripped away.

When I left that night, I turned it over in my head again, like flipping a pancake in my mind. A part of me felt cheated that time had moved on without me. How dare it?!? In my minds eye, I had blinked and it had disappeared...perhaps I was enjoying what was in my mind, not what was real. Maybe they didn't receive enough business? The owners decided to trade in for something better? Perhaps it was just a refurbishment, and I would be able to return to something new?

Driving home, I couldn't help but think of other things I'd lost, and my thoughts shifted to my red ski jacket. History repeating itself? Maybe. Lessons not learned? Disappointingly yes.