out and about

An upright, tall old woman climbs to the top deck and stumbles back as the bus takes off. She grips a pole and recovers with a rueful smile, pushes forward and eases into the seat that overlooks the stairs.

She wears a bright red cardigan over several cheerful layers: a wide-collared blouse whose floral design is like a watercolour; a pink scarf drawn close at the throat and looped once, loosely, at the chest; an ankle-length skirt with a pattern of tiny mauve and purple flowers on their stems; grey socks, and sandals whose straps are bronze, silver and gold.

Her hat is all coloured bands and layers, with the brim turned up at the back, where grey hair tapers neatly behind the ear. At the front the brim turns down, shielding the tops of her glasses.

Before she can relax, she has two bags and a book to organise. One bag is dark brown leather, with orange ornaments and strap, and the other is a light-weight olive green sack whose bottom hangs heavy. She tries various arrangements before settling the green bag on her lap and the brown bag on top of it, upright on its base and leaning against her middle.

Holding the book in both hands and looking down over the brown bag, she reads. Her hands come together to turn a page, and the cover is revealed: A Man’s Got to Have a Hobby, by William McInnes.

A man on a big black motorbike pulls up his tank top to wipe the left side mirror, leaning right forward with his belly hanging out. His beard is big and black, his legs are hairy and his camouflage-brown helmet is shaped like a soup bowl. He chucks an illegal u-turn at the lights and parks on the other side, blocking the entrance to a lane.

A black-haired girl thumps into the seat and slides down out of sight, her knees pressed up against the seat in front. Her hands press deep between her thighs, taking her face-mask with them.

A girl with a white-nosed teddy bear in a t-shirt stays under the radar as she creeps around the cafe: soft white shoes, round white collar, checked skirt, lemon cardigan with embroidered flowers. She leans against the wall, all innocence, and stealthily flicks off the power points feeding a pair of laptops round the corner.

An island in the Parramatta River. A terra cotta roof like a pagoda.

In Neutral Bay, a woman walks stiffly in her stained glass coat, all black lines and coloured triangles. She has long grey hair.

As we cross the Spit, five lime green sails are standing on a distant beach.

A woman stands across the road with a boy and girl. The boy is small and serious in shorts and t-shirt but the girl, a tween, is doing poses, holding her mother’s arm and poking her bottom out, straightening up and making patterns in the air with pointer fingers. She wears a faded t-shirt over swimmers, and her feet are bare.

A woman in green stands on the corner, the wind buffeting her knee-length tent.

An ancient woman leans on a stick with every step, as she pulls her trolley from the supermarket. Her back is bent almost double, and her face is alight with interest.

A woman whose age should not be guessed is talking at the cafe. Her salon-fresh bob appears, at first glance, to be silvery grey. And so it is, but where it curves beneath her chin the undersides are deep, reddish brown. She’s animated, bending forward, pumping her fists up and down and smiling, talking quickly. She pauses, hand to forehead, then straightens again and glides her hands in mirrored gestures, like leaves floating down from a tree.

Far across the cafe sits the Antiques Roadshow presenter look-alike, dressed as always in blue jeans, black shoes, button-up shirt and a vest. Today his sleeves are short and his sunglassed cap rests by his elbow on the table. Ratty hair straggles to his shoulders. His balding crown is lit from above, and chevrons ripple down his back.

A shop in Dee Why boasts that sauna:

• Burns calories
• Boosts immunity
• Reduces Pain
• Improves sleep
• Removes toxins
• Relaxes the mind
• Transforms your body, beauty, mind, mood and sleep

So … you lot in Scandinavia must be, like, you know, glowing.

An old woman across the road pulls a shopping trolley. Her taut black face-mask covers only her mouth, and looks like a gag.

‘I’m looking for the handbrake there’s no handbrake,’ says a tall, bare-chested man, tanned and possibly in his 30s, addressing an audience of two at the bus stop. He rambles back and forth, unshod, and his t-shirt swings from his jeans.

At Bridgepoint in Mosman, a tiny girl waits among grown-ups for the lift. She has masses of blonde hair, and a black A4 portfolio in one hand.

There’s an open space in front of her and she edges towards it, glancing up at the faces around her. When she reaches the middle she lifts her arms and starts to spin, the portfolio pulling her round and round.

When the lift arrives, she stops, and looks up at her mum. They crowd aboard.

An elderly couple enters the Spit Junction Aldi store together. The woman rushes off and the man calls out to her:

‘We’ve got bananas we don’t need bananas. We’ve got tomatoes we don’t need tomatoes.’

A woman frowns over a table at Manon, journaling with a heavy hand.

Last on at a random stop is a man with six battered feathers in his hat, their quills all jammed together, and grey hair that’s long and greasy. He wears glasses, boots and shorts, and a shirt that proclaims ‘When love is not madness it is not love.’

The Iron Cove Bridge runs over a sheet of glass, where toy boats rest on the surface.

The girl in front can’t leave her hair alone. It’s long, dark and dry, and many lost strands are littering her ribbed purple blouse.

Three stages of a bus trip …

A freckled, red-haired seven-year old turns sideways on the bus seat, eliminating his mother and brother from view, and presses his pale cheek against the seat back. He scratches a private message there.

The red-haired boy’s younger brother kneels on the seat in front, facing backwards: ‘No-o-o! I go first, Kris-tin.’ Their game of Scissors Paper Rock is doomed from the start.

The red-haired boy is relaxing now, ankle on knee and collector’s album open. He’s browsing his Pokémon cards.

In the glare of morning a car breaks in two, and one half speeds away. It becomes a motorbike.

A young woman standing upstairs on the bus has very short hair and a very baggy long sleeved newspaper shirt. One of her recurring headlines is ‘Pleasure - The Rush of Time Slows’.

Beside the Burnt Bridge Creek Bypass, a gabled house peeps over the sound barrier. Its windows look surprised.