Glendalough to Perth

Ladies and Gentlemen, TransPerth wishes to remind all patrons that the Petri dish that is our morning service is entirely of your own making. Please move along the car away from the door to allow at least five more sick people to enter the car and breathe towards those of you who are huddled at the back. We advise patrons use the hand rail or straps provided when the train is in motion, especially if you have recently wiped your nose, for the benefit of those passengers who have thus far avoided coming into contact with the Petri dish by holding their breath for the full ten minute train journey.

Please also note the school girl standing next to you (the one who smells of cigarette smoke before 8 in the morning) has done no work for her economics test and will loudly announce that she is going to fail to anyone in a similar uniform who boards at each stop.

Carriers of large bags as equally likely to contain explosives as sports kit should be aware that TransPerth best practice is to barge forwards as the doors open, using your bag as a weapon against passengers already tightly packed onto the train, in order to gain full admittance with your offensive bundles.

Do not, under any circumstances, say anything, unless somebody calls your mobile in which case it is acceptable both to answer and talk loudly enough so the whole car may listen to your conversation. Similarly, if you own an iPod; do not hesitate to turn it up and share your taste in music with anyone in the immediate vicinity of your headphones. No one will ask you to turn it down because they are all abiding by the aforementioned no speaking rule.

TransPerth wishes to take this opportunity to thank patrons for contributing to the reduction of fossil fuels in our earth's atmosphere by making use of public transport and wish everyone a pleasant day.

Surfacing

The taste of pear in my mouth reminds me of a glass of wine I had a week ago. A crisp something-white that assaulted my tongue and then rose in my cheeks in a hazy flush.

The afternoon light is bright with winter weekday and I look through office glass and down onto the city moving silently below me.

At the back of my mind are the trails of a Sunday afternoon experience. Driving alone with lamb cutlets and fresh garlic on the seat beside me and Missy Higgins on acoustic filling the spaces between the sunlight and the sea; I touched at the core of my enthusiasm for life.

Clouds are gathering over Rottnest, promising rain to wake you in the middle of the night and send you back to sleep in to a groggy sense of comfort.

I breathe as I stand and look out to sea, consciously pulling the air into me and pushing it out. I feel my belly move against my shirt and I feel my head filling with exciting possibilities.