SORRY Is Not Good Enough

The day arrived for the Ecovillage Open Day.

"Although it's raining, I really want to go", said my daughter.
"I think we'll really like the place".

She set out ahead of us, to go to her Yoga class on the way, and the children and I took our umbrellas and the pram, and set out to walk to the bus stop.

There we found a familiar figure sitting on the bus stop seat, busily smoking cigarettes.

Strewn on the footpath at her feet were the butts of all the cigarettes she had been smoking.

We had come across this woman smoking at the bus stop before.

On the first occasion, my grandson Issa had complained about the cigarette smoke, so I had said loudly enough for her to hear .... "It's illegal to smoke near children, ... and illegal to smoke within ten metres of a bus stop!"

The smoking woman had responded by saying "Sorry", before stubbing out her cigarette.

But almost immediately she had lit another cigarette!

So other people waiting at the bus stop had joined in, focusing their attention on her, making comments including .... "She must be smoking so much because she's just received her Centrelink payment", and ... "I've seen her stealing from cars in Tower Street". 

The dumpy, unresponsive woman stubbornly continued to smoke her latest cigarette until people began to tell her ... "Go away!". 

Finally she walked off up the street.
.

Today, when we again came across the smoking woman at the bus stop, instead of saying to her ... "It's illegal to smoke near children or within ten metres of a bus stop", I ignored her, and moved with the children further up the footpath, to get away from her cigarette smoke.

A car accelerated noisily around the nearby corner, spinning out of control.

I felt a moment of fear, when I saw it heading straight for the children and me.

Fortunately the driver regained control, before accelerating off at great speed.

Meanwhile, at the bus stop, a man waiting for the bus said to the smoking woman .... "You shouldn't be smoking at a bus stop!"... to which she replied ....

"It's OK".... "There aren't any police around!"


He told her to stop smoking, and she moved away, and went into the nearby Chemist.

The man watched her, then, as she came outside again, he called out .... "She's just stolen something!"

Now that the smoking woman had left, I was able to move with the children to the bus stop seat.

Next thing, Issa jumped up, and out of the way of a man hurtling towards us, his arms stretched out in an effort to stop himself.

He had come off his skateboard, and he came to a stop when he bumped into me, saying "Sorry!"

Our bus finally arrived and took us to Revesby Station, just before my daughter came up the stairs and found us, and just in time for our train to Central Station, where we caught the next train heading towards our destination.

There was still quite a journey ahead of us.

When we reached our station there was a two kilometer walk to the Ecovillage.

My daughter said: "I'll take Mariama in the pram, and walk, and you and Issa can catch a taxi."

Issa and I arrived at the Ecovillage seconds before my daughter, and we then walked together through the gateway, and along the road, past large hot houses to the combined lounge/dining room/reception building, overlooking a rainforest gully.

We were taken in groups on a tour of the property.

To the right, the land dropped down to river flats, with orchards, glass houses and a vineyard, then the creek.

To the left, and straight ahead, rose forest-covered mountains, and in a valley ahead was a huge dam.

There were flat areas for houses a little way up to the left of the road, and various farm and administrative buildings close to the road. Along the way we passed, or walked under, many of the huge trees planted on the property well over one hundred years ago. 

We liked the feel and smell, and beauty of the place. We liked the people we met, the lovely afternoon tea, and what we were told about the Ecovillage during the presentation in the comfortable lounge area. 

Then it was time to set out to return home.

It was very pleasant walking the two kilometres back to the station together.

There was something soft and gentle about the gold and green of low sunlight on houses and gardens and paddocks, and the creek we crossed.

We reached the station, and found that the train we were waiting for had been delayed a little by an accident up the line.

As it came into the platform I saw "Strathfield" displayed on the front.

Then we were on our way..

We were sitting at one end of our carriage, where there was plenty of room for the pram and for the children to run around a bit.

At one stage a young man burst in.

He addressed my daughter with: "Where does this train go to?"

She replied: "To Strathfield, ...  I think."

I added:  "Strathfield was written on the front of the train."

Meanwhile, Mariama was dashing around in our section of the carriage, and even opening the doors between the carriages, and playing in the space there.

Once, when she opened the doors, Mariama went into the next carriage, and made a bee line for the nearest red emergency button, and pressed it.

My daughter had to get up and apologise to the train guard when he answered the intercom.

In spite of our best efforts to keep Mariama away from emergency buttons she was too smart for us.

She rushed about and found three more red emergency buttons, in our carriage, and pressed them all in turn, and each time my daughter  had to answer the intercom to tell the guard what had happened, and apologise to him.

And the train guard wasn't the only person my daughter had to apologise to.

We had another visit from the young man who had earlier asked my daughter where the train was going to.

He was very agitated when he burst in this time.

"You told me this train was going to Strathfield, and it's going to Central!"... he shouted at my daughter.

"I'm sorry!", replied my daughter.

"SORRY!!".... "SORRY!!" .... responded the young man, waving his arms around in the air.

"SORRY IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

"Sorry is what the rebels in Ukraine said after they shot down the Malaysian Airlines plane!"

He went off, and back upstairs, still shouting: "Sorry!".... "Sorry!", .... and every now and then we could hear in the distance..."Sorry!" .... "Sorry!".... "Sorry is no good!"

And that wasn't all!

The young man soon barged down the stairs again, saying:

"You have to fix things, after the trouble you've caused"

"I want you to ring my girlfriend, and apologise to her for sending her off to Strathfield instead of to Central."

"Instead of me getting closer to her, she's now going in the wrong direction!"

By now my daughter was getting upset, and she didn't have credit on her phone anyway, so I handed the young man my phone, and he sent a text message, which I saw later said .... "Stay where you are."

My daughter felt like pressing the red emergency button herself, to get assistance from the guard, to stop the young man from harassing her any more. 

But she didn't dare do that now.

The agitated young man still hadn't finished.

He was soon back again.

This time he shocked us by saying ....

"If the police arrest my girlfriend, and put her in gaol, it will be your fault, .... for sending her in the wrong direction, when she was carrying a shitload of drugs!"