Roots

Back to mine, that is.
Two years and twenty-something countries later, I'm back in Mount Gambier, in the same neighbourhood I grew up in, teaching in the same school with a lot of my former teachers. The school's looking much nicer than it did ten years ago, though of course the kids keep complaining about how feral it is. Feral is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. The student numbers have dropped by about 200 since I was there as well, so there's a bit more breathing space, and the corridors no longer have the same Mumbai-train crush they used to between lessons. Otherwise, it's much the same, and it's a great help to start (more or less) a career in a familiar environment and not have to worry about where the bookroom is, what time recess starts, what is acceptable school uniform, and such. When you're a new teacher, you've got enough to worry about.
Mount Gambier has hardly changed, which is fine by me. A couple of shops have changed, and that's about it. What's really striking is that everyone drives everywhere; there's no-one walking on the streets. It's deathly quiet and peaceful out there. The birds are great too; there are flocks of lorikeets in the trees in the park next to my place, and big mobs of corellas on the school oval.
My school's Aquatics Carnival is on tomorrow, and the forecast is for a not-scorching 24. It's already cold in the mornings and evenings, and this better just be a cold patch before the sun comes back, because seriously, this is meant to be summer, people! Yikes.
Lastly, my flat is really nice and roomy, and in very nice shape. But, I have hardly any furniture, and it feels really empty. So, today's mission: get a table.