Montmorency

I live in Montmorency. The gumtrees in the backyard are massive, leaning out across the kitchen window. I walk to the train in the misty, overcast morning and find a window seat and read voraciously. I am absorbed in stories and words. I open my laptop on the train and pour ideas into it. I walk home via the Monty shops and buy organic potatoes and chilli continental sausages because we don’t live with vegetarians anymore. We have central heating and winter feels cozy and homey and unlike any sharehouse Melbourne winter I’ve ever had. I walk Ooms, the dog that comes with the house, late at night in the empty misty streets. We email the folk we are house-sitting for and tell them we love their house and sometimes we look for rental properties online but only because we feel like we should.

When Jono is away, for days at a time for work, Luke and Christy drive Nona out here and we spread out across the centrally heated house and plan and organise and take it in turns to pat Ooms. Put ideas on butchers paper in the study, watch superhero movies in the loungeroom, sit at the kitchen table and eat and talk and talk and eat. Sweet treats and tea. Marx for Beginners in the toilet and we take it in turns to read snippits.