I once again push open the door that has been on these hinges since time immemorial, or so it seems. When I was a young man, this door led to the local office of the S.E.C. — the State Electricity Commission of Victoria. My brother David worked here, not seen often in the office. We paid our electricity account here, and in my young adult life, my friend Geoff could regularly be found wandering around the hallways, probably avoiding me should I wander past.
Now, it’s the Speckled Frog. I have stopped here to have some breakfast. I’m greeted as I enter, shown the menu and told to sit wherever I want.
I want to sit in the front window, with its view over Gray Street. The table is for four people, and I’m only one, but hey, I’m going to watch the people on the footpath, as they wander with a purpose. Maybe I’ll know someone. Potentially, someone will know me.
Hamilton seems the same, as I train my eyes up and down the main street. The shopfronts may have changed, with new shops and displays, but the facades remain the same as when I left here thirty years ago. They look a little older and tired with their flaking paint work and chipped concrete renders. The Millers department store still has their logo atop what is now a bargain store. The wrought iron “Importers” sign is still in place. There was a time when something imported was desirable. Nowadays, everything is imported and not so exotic. The bargain shop is full of “Made in China” stickers.
The parking bays are all full, a man walks in pushing a pram, to order some coffees, a little old lady with a little old man meander up the street. A young mother, dragging her daughter along, passes. People wander in and out of the shops.
I don’t see any familiar faces. It’s been 30 years since I lived here. The faces of the old people of my youth are no more, and the faces I grew up with have aged, and possibly moved away.
I order another coffee and watch the world go past.
