Yesterday I wandered into ol' Freo town, as I do on a reasonably regular basis to source blog fodder.
Anything's fair game, and it was a lovely walk in, interrupted but once by a short-lived thunder storm.
On arrival about 2.30pm, I noticed the South Terrace cappuccino strip, as usual on a Sunday, was jam-packed with the kinda people I prefer not to asssociate with.
You know, those peopley-type people.
Hence, I disappeared into Myer to procure two pairs of Y-fronts, and zipped back across the Terrace to High Street for a coffee. There I whiled the afternoon away in my own pleasant company, breaking only for a stroll down and back to Esplanade Reserve – where the corellas
were in full voice.
Later, as the shops were closing, and V8-driving Bevans and Charmaines supercharged their ways home along the Terrace to their Coogee McMansions, the thunder (ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!)
of a more ominous-looking storm threatened to delay my egress from the now-forlorn port city.
"Quick!" I thought. "To the trusty Freo Star!"
The trusty Freo Star is a free mini-bus service the council is trialling to link Freo's suburbs to its historic heart. However, when I reached the Star's terminus, behind the synagogue near South Fremantle Oval, I found the Star strangely stagnant, locked behind foreboding wire gates.
The Star was not rolling anywhere, not yesterday at any rate. Perhaps never again.
"What ever happened to the trusty Star?" I pondered as the dark clouds began to urinate on my long parade home. "I was only on it a fortnight ago. Is its six-month trial up? At any rate, I was never told of such."
My vote in October's local government elections to the councillor or mayor (c'mon Taggers
!) who can bring poor, forgotten, Starry-boy back.