If you have ever wondered why it always feels longer getting to somewhere than it does returning from it, I submit for further evidence Bump out.
Unlike its fussy sibling, Bump in, Bump out moves with the speed and efficiency of a practised – and possibly Olympic standard – team.
Today was day three of the event and the final day. Disappointingly, the weather had decided to perk right up, so the entire population of the city suddenly changed habits and decided to find other things to do, so we were not overly busy.
Perthites hate winter. It only lasts about eight weeks, but for at least the last six of them, I have heard residents here exclaiming that ‘they are over this winter’, despite the fact that the end of it will herald the start of a summer that will build without mercy towards a blistering and overwhelming heat and go on for eight months. That is eight months for summer, two months for winter and one month each for Autumn and Spring. Perth does not do transitional. It is day, or it is night, ditto with the weather.
I love winter so I just nod and smile and pretend to agree with everyone so I will not be cast out of the village and shunned. I love winter. I love my Wellington boots and my Guinness fleecy lined jacket. I love my duck down duvet and my electric blanket. I love steaming hot cups of tea and the sound of rain on my umbrella. The problem is that houses over here are not designed for the cold. They generally have one gas bayonet point, so everyone clusters around the fire in the living room and then runs the gauntlet to the tomb-like bedroom and goes to bed ready to wake up with a cold nose.
Things used to be worse. My husband smokes, but does so outside. Because he feels the cold, I made the mistake of feeling sorry for him and buying him a patio heater, which meant he sat outside near the warmth of the heater and watched TV from the patio. With the door open. This left me sitting inside the house freezing cold.
Then I got the skip.
Now things are much better. Without the heater, my husband does not have an invisible shed to sit in and he watches TV while inside the house like a normal person, until he decides he is ready to get into bed and on top of the electric blanket.
So back to Bump out. The event had been quieter than usual for a Sunday, because the sun had been out and the crowds had thinned before it closed at 4pm. By thirteen minutes past it looked like a plague of locusts had been through the pavilion and stripped everything. Ten minutes later the loading dock door folded open and a load of trucks back in, filled up and drove off.
We were left with little else to do but go home and wait for tomorrow, when the final items will leave and the floor will be swept and we will close the large bifold door on the event for another year.