Pie is trash, according to a garbage can at North Sydney’s Lindfield railway station.
It is foul and in need of disposing along with plastic bags, yogurt containers. and—diapers.
I dispute that. Pie is a delectable, flaky pastry filled with fruits or savoury fillings. It is delightful warm and with a cup of good coffee.
Pie is not akin to dirty nappies, City of Sydney train system.
Pie is not trash.
Question the wisdom of a garbage can.
I was twelve years old when Peter Foldy’s 1973 song Bondi Junction played on my white plastic radio in my pink-and-lavender bedroom in Guelph, Ontario.
The sweet-voiced song told the tale of a young man who met his first true love at a mysterious place called “Bondi Junction.”
I eventually discovered that Bondi Junction is a real place in faraway Australia. I wondered if I would ever go there.
I did. It’s a transit station east of Sydney. It’s a great place to find a direct bus to Bondi Beach. But, like poor Peter, it was not the place to find love.
The song did well for Peter, though. It was a Canadian’s break-out hit single nominated for several awards. He might have been influenced by three brothers he met when he was still in Australia—the brother Gibb. They’d go on to become the Bee Gees. He’d go on to direct a film that is rumoured to inspire the film American Pie.
Catch a bus at Bondi Junction.
χ Find love at Bondi Junction.