Regression. That's the only word that seems to fit and, y'know, the more I think of it the better it fits.

We have just come back after a week in what was once home. 'Civilisation'. 'The Big Smoke'. Melbun...

Please don't get me wrong, you residual Victorians, I'm not knocking the place; in point of fact, it must have something going for it, the rate at which it is expanding. It seems as if, not all that long ago, you'd get to the end of the tram line in Plenty Road and then the rolling dairy and cropping country would start. It's pretty much all to wall homes now, pretty well all the way out through South Morang to Mernda. From all reports, this is among the fastest growing regions in Australia and is part of the  reason - assuming it continues - that Melbourne will overtake Sydney as Australia's largest city. Pity is that, once, it was a kind of nice old place to live, in a conservative sort of way. 

This is only a brief note on our 'Lifestyle Change'. If ever we needed affirmation that we did the right thing by ourselves in moving an hour's flight/an overnight sailing away to The Apple Isle and its altogether more peaceful and laid back lifestyle, our recent few days across the puddle to The Big Island spelt it out in spades. I found it difficult to acknowledge the poor manners shown by many (not universal, there were some outstanding exceptions) to a 'foreign' registered car. Our Pajero now proudly sports Tasmanian plates, with the Tasmanian Tiger peering out through the grass.

I had travelled the roads in the Northern suburbs for seventy plus years, so know them well; it seems an element among those who now reside there/drive those same roads believe they have a right that supplants courtesy, manners, even road rules. A flashing 40 in a red ring signifies only one thing; School zone, reduced speed and attention even greater than usual. On slowing to the mandatory limit, I was assaulted by cars running close up to my tailgate; some whipping out and passing by at an unabated pace; others doing a slalom around me and cutting back in in front (once, even, while already braking for an approaching red light). It's quite frightening, especially when considering those for whom the limit is meant...

Pity with this is that I'm probably starting to sound a bitter old man. Well, I'm not. Let me tell you a funny, but still to do with driving.

Mid-afternoon, driving in three, four, five, even six lanes in Hoddle Street,  traffic flowing, slowing, stopping, some lanes alternately moving better than others and then grinding to a halt. I pick a lane and stick to it. Always did. Can't see much point in weaving, especially in a Pajero. Not so the young man in a dark blue older model Subaru WRX. In three kilometres, we saw him come from behind, drive beside us, cut in ahead, move over into a different lane, fall behind, come racing past to our left before cutting in again a few cars ahead, then drive along parallel with us to our right for a couple of hundred metres... and on... and on... Each time we drew parallel, with him going ahead or behind, My Darling and I began to wave and smile to the poor unfortunate. And guess what?! I know there are those who consider antics such as ours might generate road rage but in point of fact, on about the sixth or seventh occasion as we sidled past his stopped WRX and I gave him a thumbs up with a smile, he burst out laughing,

That lightened our day as it evidently did his.

Meanwhile, back on our B and C class roads, driving generally around 90-ish (it's wonderful for the fuel consumption, too!) we have had a day again in Paradise. Well, almost; I'

(Don't know what happened there! It end as follows...)

Well, almost; I've already mentioned that we still have a few kilometres before we're there, but we're a whole lot closer than any of you!

Take much care, everybody.