I was walking through the parklands this afternoon when a twin cab ute pulled up nearby. A man in a wife beater and shorts with a pot belly got out. He pulled a pair of long reach pruning shears from the back of the ute, cut four large bunches of mistletoe down from a eucalypt, popped it in his tray then drove off. I get the feeling he waits all year for Christmas.
I was a bit concerned that the carbon tax would dampen Reservoir's love affair with Christmas lights this year. I should really have a better grip on my fellow Rezzadents' unflagging defiance in the face of adversity by now.
It is with great pleasure that I give you Christmas 2012.
Tonight I saw two dogs attack each other while they were being walked. The funny thing was that both owners dealt with the situation by shouting "Hey!" a lot rather than just separating their pets. For quite a while I watched the dogs straining at their leashes going "Bark! Bark! Bark!", while their owners stood fast shouting "Hey! Hey! Hey!" Eventually both parties tired of the interaction and moved on. I'm glad they were all able to come to an amicable agreement.
This past weekend everyone put their Christmas decorations up in the 'Voir. It's so nice how everyone here respectfully waits until exactly a month to the day before Christmas to do it. Because putting them up earlier would just be tacky.
Singlets, tracky dacks and leisure footwear (sheepskin, Dunlop KT26, slippers etc) are all acceptable social attire, providing you only wear two of the three categories at a time. Socks with sandals is a no go though. Some things are universal.
I have been blogging about Rezza for less than a year, but I have in fact been an official Rezzadent for two years as of today. Since my auspicious arrival in this suburb I've seen and learnt so many amazing things.
For example, I now know that when fanging a turn at an intersection, a straight six should automatically give way to a V6, and a V6 should automatically give way to a V8, unless the V6 has some sick modifications that trump the V8. If said modifications aren't immediately apparent, some basic call-and-reply revvingwill quickly clarify right of way. Classic V8's do not have automatic seniority here, as they do in the inner city, but classic hogs do.
I now also know that even though people here drink more than people in Fitzroy (which is an achievement), they do it privately and at a reasonable hour, and therefore it makes sense that you can't buy alcohol after 10pm unless you're playing the pokies, and if your neighbour starts a jackhammer at 8am on Saturday you will seem odd if you try to tell them you were out until 3am and they are hurting your soul.
I now know that in addition to being really adorable loving little guys, Staffies are to the canine world what Toranas are to the automotive world: muscle dogs for chicks.
I know that if I don't bring my bins in or mow my nature strip, the whole street feels awkward, and this embarrasses me.
I know that riding motorbikes barefoot is fine, so long as you've got your helmet.
I know that I can buy 50 varieties of cheese, and spices, and pickles, but can't find a good restaurant after lunch. That's ok - I'm rarely hungry after all that good cheese anyway.
I know all my neighbours' names, and they know mine.
I know my heading sounds festive, but if I'm completely honest I'd have to say that I'm a bit crapped off. I've just found out that it's National Water Week, and it's Thursday. I don't think it's presumptuous to say that Reservoir has the wettest name, per unit of volume, of any suburb in Australia. Were any keynote Water Week events held in the 'Voir though? The fuck they were.
One of my favourite things about Reservoir is not being constantly bombarded with "My Family" stickers on rear windows of cars. Up here people are reminded often enough of the curse of fertility without having to create false idols in its honour. A couple of days ago I saw my first one though. There was a sticker of a guy with a toolbelt and next to it a sticker of a dog, on a panel van with a trailer. Bet he does alright at Zagame's on a Saturday night.
Summerhill Safeway has now replaced half of its "Healthy Foods" section with a wall display for Pepsi New. It wasn't a particularly large section to begin with, so I'm not sure if this is an indictment of the people's feelings about the Macro buyout, or of Pepsico's relevance as a market innovator. Either way I'm excited. It's not every day that cola flavour as we know it is revolutionised.
I get the sense that Summerhill Safeway has finally done some number crunching. I walked into the bottle shop tonight to find that four of the seven aisles of wine had been completely removed, and the newly liberated floorspace had been replaced with giant pyramids of slabs. I've got to admit that it's a lot simpler to shop there now. When you stop frigging around with varietals and vintages and only have to choose between red, white, goon, slab or spirits it's a much quicker process. My tongue feels weird.
I'm informed that today is International Lesbian Day. I feel it's a bit shortsighted of this event to overlook all our lovely Domestic Lesbians though, so on behalf of greater Reservoir, I would like to say "Happy Lesbian Day Resbians!". May you continue to leave your unmistakable mark on this suburb.
"Has a full size A2 class locomotive on display. The train is fenced off but it is possible to enter the driver's compartment and pretend that you are driving Douglas (or at least have a good healthy discussion as to which train it is from Sodor). The playground near the Athletics track and train is poor with broken down, old equipment. There is only one swing without a safety chain. Plenty of BBQs with sheltered tables. Near lake with lots of waterbirds. Toilets when they are not closed for repair - are they waiting for the Queen to visit for a grand re-opening ceremony?" I wonder what a one star park is like.
The Grand Final ended a short while ago, and Reservoir has sprung back to life. Mere seconds afterwards, in the distance, a recording of "Pub With No Beer" began to play at full volume, followed by a belligerent yawp of "Carna Pies!!!" For my overseas readers, or anyone similarly confused: no, the Pies didn't actually play. Footnote: I've just had it explained to me that the final siren is when the season starts for a Collingwood supporter. Everything makes a lot more sense now. Everything except the Slim Dusty part. I'm going to assume the pub is a metaphor in this instance.
You know at the start of 28 Days Later when the guy walks out of the hospital and there isn't a living soul to be seen or heard anywhere? That's what Reservoir's like during the Grand Final. I saw how things panned out for the guy in 28 Days Later. This could be a long night.
I'm always impressed by people who use vanity plates as indicators of superiority, mainly because the 6 character limit necessitates just enough linguistic bastardisation to negate any intended impact.
I love that they're willing to wear that. And pay for it.
Now if I could just get this guy to park next to GR8NES.
For anyone who still doubts the greatness of the 'Voir, I've just stumbled on footage proving that one of our great Australian treasures is a member of the Rezza alumni. Link: Poida hosts Sale of the Century
Link: Doing the block in Preston (Please disregard the fact that this headline references Preston rather than Reservoir. This publication has to handle breaking news from over three suburbs weekly, so they can't reasonably be expected to be all over the tiny details.)
"A LARGE and ugly concrete slab, which was used to prop up a Reservoir power pole for six months, has been removed. Just days after Preston Leader reported that residents were fed up with the concrete block on Oakhill Ave on July 10, power infrastructure company Jemena removed it and stabilised the pole with a steel channel. Resident Jim Logan said the concrete had partially blocked the footpath and had frustrated people for months, but it took workers less than a day to fix. "It only took them a few hours, the pole is fine," he said. "I was straight onto the phone to my wife Mary, she said 'I don't believe it'." The concrete had been placed at the site by Jemena on December 30 to stabilise the pole. Mr Logan said the area, once home to former Premier John Cain, was now back to being the nice place it was before the block's arrival." Personally I'm just amazed this story went to print twice without ever using the term "Block-ade".
Nearby resident Jim Logan said the block - placed on a nature strip and footpath on Oakhill Ave - was a massive eyesore. "You've got to see it to believe it. I wouldn't mind if they put it there for a month but you can't just leave it there (long term) and say this is our solution for holding up power poles," he said. "It has sat there so long all the grass has grown all over it." Mr Logan said the block affected a lot of people because it significantly narrowed the footpath. "Everyone walks their dogs everyday and has to deal with it everyday," he said. "It's hard for older ladies to get around it." Electricity infrastructure company Jemena told Leader it placed the concrete at the site on December 30 last year to ensure the pole was safe and secure....."
A couple of days ago I was lucky enough to see a biker teaching his son to ride. I was driving down Albert Street in heavy traffic when a man in full leather approached in the opposite direction on his hog. As he took the bend he looked over his shoulder and started waving someone through to his left, whereupon a child on a dirt bike popped into view, in a singlet and board shorts, barefoot. Tucked safely in dad's slipstream, they navigated a double lane right turn together and disappeared from view all too quickly over the crest. And to think, if I'd only waited five more minutes to go to Northland(s), I would have missed it all.
Link: teach custom made shoes "Hi, would like someone to teach me how to make custom made shoes. mainly concepts. include graphic designs." I'd personally like to order the first pair of these conceptual shoes including graphic design that you make. They sound amazing. I'm wondering about the likelihood of you finding someone in Reservoir who wants to show you how to make shoes though, and if you do, I would be asking for credentials and a police check before cutting up leather in private with them. Just sayin'.
This feisty little chap was sent to me by a reader. Apparently even the gnomes are fond of a durrie in Reservoir. Poor fellow looks like he has mouth cancer or a chroming habit, and I'm a bit bothered about what's in his wheelbarrow.
Driving around Reservoir in the rain at night time is like playing a vintage computer game - guys in tracksuits with hoodies keep popping out into the oncoming traffic without warning. As far as I know you don't win pills or treasure if you run over them. Of course I could be wrong.
Tonight I saw a small sedan with vanity plates that said GR8NES. It took me a few moments to step through the phonetics before I realised what a masterpiece of irony I was dealing with. I pursued it hotly for a while but it was going too fast for me, and eventually I lost it when I reprioritised and turned off at the bottle shop. Oh well, we don't all achieve GR8NES. Most of us just have it thrust upon us and have to be satisfied with blogging about it instead.
There are lots of reasons not to buy vegetables at a Reservoir supermarket. Here's the main one: "Um, what's this?" "A beetroot." "Really?" ...... "What's this?" "A sweet potato." "What's this?" ........... Yes, this is the cashier.
A few nights ago there was a frantic knocking at my door. I ignored it for awhile but eventually I was distracted enough to pause my iview stream and answer it. A young American girl stood on my doorstep. Rather nervously, she told me that she was on her way to meet a friend for a house interview, but there was a woman standing on the corner screaming, so she felt reticent about crossing the road. I stepped out onto the porch. "So there is." I observed. There was an awkward moment of silence, before the young American girl said: "I feel like I should call for help or something. Do you think she's alright?" "No - I think she's alright." I said. "I'll re-evaluate if she stops screaming." The young American girl and I stood and stared at one another for a few seconds, then she said: "Do you mind if I stay on your porch until she goes?" "Oh I'm so sorry!" I said, " Do you want to come in? Please, feel free to hang around here for a bit. It's much warmer inside." She thanked me and stepped inside, to witness me scraping piles of unfurled newspapers from the sofa to make way for her. She sat on the very edge of the seat and began dialling madly on her mobile. "So are you moving to the area because you're studying at LaTrobe?" I asked. "Yes." she replied. "Oh that's great, how exciting." I said. "And you're going for a room in a house right now?" "Yes." she replied, still dialling. "I'm supposed to meet my friend, but she's not answering." She looked up at me. "Is this a safe area?" she asked. "Absolutely." I replied, "Ok, so once in a while there's a crazy domestic like out there right now, but mostly it's just retirees and young families, and usually it's really quiet. I've spent the last 20 years living in the inner city, and I've got to say that I feel safer walking around here at night than I ever did back there." I admit that I felt a little smug at this point, like a great ambassador of the 'Voir, spreading The Word. There was a momentary pause, and then I realised I was wearing mini-uggs and tracky dacks, and she was sitting in between piles of my old newspapers. Faint screams were still audible in the distance. She left. I don't know if she got the house or not. I'll keep an eye out for her.
A couple of nights ago in a Reservoir supermarket a shoeless individual entered holding an aerosol can of deodorant. He approached a cashier and proclaimed: "I bought this deodorant here!", then held it up to her face preparing to discharge it into her eyes. She ducked, as did all the other cashiers, like dominoes, behind her. He then moved to the service desk and walked back and forth spraying the deodorant across the counter, then left, aerosol still in hand. My witness was unable to confirm whether or not the perpetrator was wearing a Reservoir Hogs T-shirt. Apparently the store smelled quite pleasant for a while afterwards though.
"This car is not like others. This car is a 6 cylinder in very very good conditions, and I cant describe it because you dont going to belive it, so... please come and see for you self or call me if you have any questions Thank you.
Sounds too good to be true. I'm betting conditions apply.
Police raided properties in Reservoir, Brunswick, Maribyrnong, Glenferrie and St Leonards this morning. Detective Superintendent Doug Fryer said the raids uncovered one of the most sophisticated drug labs officers had seen in 10 years.
Just in case you're wondering: no, the "sophisticated" lab wasn't the one they found in Reservoir.
At the supermarket tonight I handed my cloth bag to the checkout chick and told her it would be fine to put everything in there together. She seemed pretty distressed by the prospect of all my loose, unlike items colliding recklessly with each other. I watched with amusement as she took handfuls of plastic bags and lovingly wadded them between all the items in the cloth bag to buffer them. I can't stop thinking about how that poor girl must wonder why people buy cloth bags. I kind of hope she feels sorry for us.
"Walking down the personal hygiene aisle in the supermarket in Northland, i spotted a guy moving quickly along the aisle spraying the contents of a not unpleasant smelling can onto other products on the shelves. The woman working nearby gave him a stern talking to. Then i noticed he was wearing a 'Reservoir Hogs" T Shirt....."
It goes without saying that I want one of these shirts. Interesting thing is though, that when I sought out Reservoir Hogs, I discovered that it's one of two Harley dealers in Reservoir: there's Reservoir Hogs and Doc Hogs. I have to wonder how a suburb where many people struggle to maintain a single family car can support not one but TWO elite motorcycle outlets. Oh........
I take the provenance of my material very seriously. There is a good deal of content I haven't posted because it was seen or heard outside the bounds of Reservoir. When people ask why I take such a serious stance on this, I tell them it's because I won't jeopardise the integrity of my blog. They tend to laugh at this point, though some just frown and take a few steps away from me.
I have to make an exception in this case, and I trust you will appreciate why. This picture was submitted to me from down the hill in Northcote. You will note that someone has fashioned a truly impressive swing / aerial fortress by suspending an NQR trolley from a tree. I'm guessing the scattered milk crates serve as some kind of hillbilly building blocks. Outstanding.
I can see two likely explanations for this magnificent display:
1) The outlet pipe from the meth lab next door isn't elevated enough
2) The house is occupied by Resbians*
It's touchingly Reservoir that following such a flagrant outburst of freeform expression the household has continued to manicure the lawn with Diophantic precision, and then parked a car on it.
* Resbian: A lesbian from Reservoir.
Apparently this is a burgeoning demographic at present in the 'Voir. Exciting times. If you thought the collective noun "A Northcote of Lesbians" was edgy, try queue jumping a Resbian at the Broadway Puff 'n Stuff.
Amongst my fellow newcomers to Reservoir, I'm sad to say that there are a few who struggle with the implications of claiming this great suburb as their home. Indeed, it sits so heavily with some that they attempt to excise themselves Coyote Ugly style from Reservoir by inventing new suburbs, as though no-one will notice. The best known example of this is the ongoing propagation of the Regent myth, in which the real estate industry has been complicit. Another contender is the surprisingly grandioseOakhill Estate in the Eastern end of Reservoir. While the names have legitimate origins, these areas nonetheless fall squarely within the great state of Rezza, and they will continue to do so until a film star or an elected member of parliament moves in. Of those who continue to argue the point I would ask only this: What is your postcode? If it's 3073 you live in Reservoir. Suck it up.
And West Regent is Preston, so don't even think about trying that on. Footnote: I am informed via indisputable heresay that former State Premier John Cain at one point lived in Oakhill Estate. I'm still not sure if this negates or supports my argument - after all he may well have been responsible for the title "Oakhill Estate" in the first place for all I know.
There is a remarkable lack of fanfare surrounding Easter in Reservoir. I find this surprising in a suburb that celebrates most public holidays with the fervour of an Olympics host city. Doubly surprising for a holiday synonymous with discount chocolate.
I guess in a place where near-death experiences are such a commonplace part of life the story of the resurrection doesn't hold much stock. You could knock on almost any door in Reservoir and chances are that you would find someone who has been dead at least as many times as Jesus was. The difference is that they would probably preface their story with "You shoulda seen it. It was awesome......."
I think the holly next to this partially impaired rabbit is a nice touch. Nothing says Jesus quite like an incongruous grouping of pagan symbols.
Clearly a great feast of dim sims and lemon fizzy has taken place. This feast either preceded or followed a very exciting trolley ride that ended abruptly when the trolley met the fire hydrant at high speed. Could a night in the 'Voir possibly get any more awesome?
Hi I'm looking for Emma I don't know if she still lives in reservoir. But she has a brother named wilson and a sister as well. I had a big crush on her when I was younger. She would know me as the boy in the red hat. If you know her or if you do read this Emma would love to hear from you
Come on people. Let's make this thing happen!
BTW: How awesome is it that Emma's brother and sister were both called Wilson?
There always seems to be a decent number of mattresses amongst the piles of refuse behind the now defunct Maternity Mode store. I can't tell if it's incidental irony, if it's a form of symbolic revolt against the fertility gods who singled out certain unfortunate local couples, or if it's just a means of simplifying the complicated arena of teen dating.
"No one was home at the time, as the family were living elsewhere after experiencing extensive water damage caused during the Christmas Day floods. Fire investigators will attend the property early today to determine the cause."
People often don't realise they aren't covered for flood damage until it's too late.
In Reservoir though, people know how to create opportunity out of adversity.
The migration of trolleys around Reservoir may seem symptomatic of a certain lawlessness to some, or to others may just be an eyesore. To me though, it is symbolic of the power of the everyman.
In Reservoir trolleys aren't coin operated. They were once, briefly; occasionally you find yourself pushing a trolley with the stump of a prehensile coin chain still attached. Unlike other suburbs though, people in Reservoir quickly realised that a trolley is worth far more than a dollar, and they continued to nick them. They refused to be deterred by this pecuniary obstacle as people so frequently are in more affluent suburbs, where it is not uncommon to see freshly coiffed women-of-society wilfully maiming themselves to retrieve a coin before retreating to their Range Rovers.
The people of Reservoir won. The chains were cut, and both Safeway and Coles employed permanent staff to drive around the suburb with trailers reclaiming trolleys, day after day, week after week. I hear their distant rattles sometimes in the early morning as they claim their cargo, and I throw a tiny ineffectual air punch in my half-sleep.
Of course from time to time locals are still distracted from the trolley's basic functionality and can't help but ride around on them when drunk, occasionally face planting one into a garden or creek.
This Coles adjoins a cavernous disused retail space that used to be a Target. That's right - even Target didn't want to stick around. It is only the second most depressing Coles in Reservoir on account of the fact that it sells real coffee and has a bottle shop. Mind you, of all the bottle shops I've visited across the world, this one stocks the least number of drinks that I would be prepared to imbibe, and I can't pretend to have particularly high standards.
I have a sort of preemptive sentimentality for this Coles. Before long it is going to be levelled to make way for an apartment high rise. I already know that when this happens I will hold on fondly to the memory of the troughed out surfaces in the carpark that are never repaired, and the touching product directory signs that are hand typed in Word and sticky taped onto the end of each aisle in a plastic pocket. I bet if they open another Coles in the new development the checkout chicks won't be half as nice either.
This may not seem noteworthy at first glance. This is a Bunnings trolley though, and it was photographed more than three kilometres uphill from the nearest Bunnings. Someone was really serious about that new angle grinder.
It seems so sad to break up on a day as special as Australia Day, but that's exactly what happened up the road from me today. I guess all the emotion the day stirs up in people got the better of them. She was certainly pretty pissed. You could hear her screams swell each time she opened the front door to hurl more of his possessions into the yard. There was a tense moment when an armful of debris hit his Commodore. He urged her to be fucken careful. She pointed out that it's not that fucken special - it's just a fucken car. I guess this put things in perspective for him. Eventually it was agreed that he's a useless fucken dog and that he will fuck off and spend the night alone at his mum's like he fucken deserves. She feels she'll be a lot fucken better off without him. That must be a comfort.