Shush!
There are moments of peace and tranquility on our balcony overlooking the Brisbane River in New Farm. But they are few and far between, especially on a beautiful summer Sunday.
Having run at 6.30 this morning – it was already 25 degrees – we were back in the apartment for 8 and sitting down to boiled eggs and toast about an hour later. Five minutes we can have had, if that, of nothing but the sound of lapping water and bird calls – Australian Ravens, Magpie Larks, Noisy Miners – before the first guy-with-gadget started up.
He was on the other side of the river; somewhere in Hawthorne I'd say. He was using a hedge-trimmer I would guess. He's just stopped. About an hour later. Mighty big hedge it must have been. What a relief. But it'll only be a matter of time before the next gadget starts up. There'll be someone grass-slashing or strimming or Gerni-ing (high-pressure hosing). I assume they're all guys: I've yet to see an Aussie gal with a gadget in a garden. Just give it a rest, will you. Let the grass grow, man.
And the jetskis will dash up and down on the water, showing off their prowess or whatever it is that makes them want to create so much racket. 'Gilis', the Spanish would call them: it's too rude to translate, I'm afraid. The first one passed as we cooled down from the run down by the riverside. On the weekend, you're lucky to go an hour without their disproportionately intrusive noise forcing its way into your consciousness. How can they deem it acceptable to adversely affect so many people? Sometimes I wish they'd just go out in the Bay, but then I worry they'll hit dolphins or turtles. Sometimes deliberately.
If I ruled the world, there'd be no such thing as jetskis. And you'd have to use a push-me-pull-you mower on lawns of less than a substantial area. And brush leaves away, not blow them (what's the point in doing it very much at all in such a windy city?). Bet you're all glad I'm not a pollie.
