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Reasons why I hate Anzac Parade, Kingsford:

  • the people who stand in the street and scream obscenities at one another
  • the prostitutes who push past you as they hurry up to the brothel
  • the clumps of people who stand at the bus stop and block the entire footpath and get annoyed with you when you try to navigate a path through the crowd
  • the staff at the IGA who are rude and unhelpful and make you feel like an idiot for insisting that they charge you $2.70 for the packet of biscuits, as was marked on the shelf. “That ticket was out of date,” huffs the manager. “But I’ll give it to you for that price anyway.”
  • the whole feeling that it’s just a corridor on the way to somewhere else
  • the general air of grey-faced malaise and misery mixed with an aggressive sense of entitlement

But maybe it’s just my mood today. I can’t tell. The whole place makes me think of the grey town and its bus stop in CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce.