The joys of council housing.

So we live on the other side of the train track at the moment, and not the good side.  People really, this is literally speaking… trains go by all day, all night.

Just a reminder for those who might have missed it, we took the great opportunity of using the free meet and greet service, and part of this service is that the government finds you accommodation on arrival. The beauty is, is that you have a guaranteed furnished apartment AND you have a much cheaper rental. The flipside to the coin is that you basically live in council housing. Which believe me, is really impressive. Seems to be fairly newish everything from beds, appliances, cutlery and crockery. This rental can be used for a maximum of three months, it just helps families settle in easier.

Now you are wondering what the issue is… well it’s not the flat, not really the area, and not the furniture… it’s our fellow council housing neighbours. Initially Rebecca was reprimanded when she got a little noisy… after two days we realized it really wasn’t necessary.

Disclaimer: This is my opinion only, and certainly not my general view of general Australian citizens.

So here we go.

Meet the Curry Family (and no, that’s not their surname). Every night when you walk into the Apartment block you get this waft of freshly cooked curry. We can’t understand why curry every night??? I have been thinking about perhaps swopping recipes… but decided against it.

Meet Amanda. She lives a few flats down. She was the first to introduce herself. Looked like she hadn’t brushed her hair for weeks, and looked like she was still coming off her nightly binge of booze and drugs… She was very pleasant, until we mentioned the fact we were immigrants… (stupid, stupid, although our accent does tend to give us away). She then had to go on about how her friends have waited twenty years to get into housing like this, and how we had just walked in. But she says to us… No worries of course, don’t feel guilty or anything… gulp… Couldn’t pick up if there was a hint of sarcasm or what. Basically when we see Amanda we hide. We don’t hear much from her, except the odd night when her boyfriend screams… AMMMMMAAAANNNNNNNDDDDA… from the ground floor to her upstairs flat because she won’t let him in. Amanda also advised us not to get involved with the neighbours, pity she can’t take her own advice.

Meet Senegalese man. He lives way away from us, but doesn’t go unheard. We haven’t actually met or even seen him. But every night around seven he blasts his Senegalese tunes. His light stays on all night… perhaps that’s why we only hear him in the evenings… maybe he is nocturnal and only comes out at night.

Meet Heavy Metal Man (aka Aging rocker) We see him only briefly, but hear his Heavy Metal (something like Korn or Slipped Knot for those in the know) fairly often. He lives in the flat beneath us and generally keeps to himself. He is about 40, dresses in  jeans and a dirty kinda sweatshirt with this long, dirty, perhaps even greasy hair… nicely complimented with a bald spot. So sometimes we have, Senegalese tunes mixed with Heavy metal… the sound is fascinating…

Meet Angry Old lady. She sneaks in and out of the apartment building, sometimes wearing what looks like Long John’s, always what looks like a scowl. She never makes eye contact and always glares. But I am pleased to report that yesterday I gave her a wave… and her whole face changed… to a big huge grin. I am determined that she is actually could be called Nice Old Lady, but only time will tell.

Meet the Hearing Impaired man. He stands by the window and shouts on his cell phone. Last night we were updated on his news, and believe that he told his caller he wasn’t well at the moment. Hope he actually has some hot gossip soon.

Meet China Man. I am not sure were China man lives, but I see him almost every night at the laundry area. You see the trick to keeping to yourself, is sightseeing during the day, watching a bit of telly, and then washing in the evening. Clearly China man, has the same idea as me. Logic says that most council flat dwellers, are living off some form of government support, and can’t afford the luxury of a tumble drier. So no one would do washing at night, because it just couldn’t get dry. So at about 7:30 in the evening I sneak down quietly to the laundry area, every night to be greeted by China Man. The difference is, is that China Man and I have the same understanding. We are not there to chit chat, but to do our washing. So we now exchange a friendly wave, in the common understanding that we are actually trying our best not to be seen.

So much to keep a person here entertained. Hope it entertained you…