The Fitzroy Diaries

What would Fitzroy be without the occasional street party? Life's good, and it might not stay this way forever, and who knows what's coming, but a day with fruit punch, a speech and some dancing makes everything seem okay.

A walk with an old friend, a romance confirmed, and the making of a citrus cake. Honestly, does life get any better than this? Even with all the flour on the floor? And on the bench? And everywhere?

Fitzroy's mood seems to be lifting, as a little bit of hope seems to fill the air. Phone numbers are swapped, and the idea of a party starts to take shape. Could life be returning to normal? Could it really be possible?

A glorious run, alone in the world, turns into a neighbourhood rescue, in which walls are climbed, ambulances are called, and useless ladders are held.  Amidst the drama, a romance is unfolding before our very eyes. We think so, anyway.

There are teddy bears in windows, and numbers in our ears, and maths is all around us. And that's just on the morning walk. The only sure thing is that Mum needs a coffee. Mum really needs a coffee.

Does time even exist? Did last week actually happen? Is it midday already? And what about that time, all those years ago, when you had your best friend close by? And how does it all change when here she is, in front of you, after all these years?

Can the number of cardboard boxes in a house destroy a family? It feels like it, despite the fact that they seemed to offer the hope of hours of fun craft-based activities. Now they're just tripping hazards.

It's raining in Fitzroy. Everyone's inside, where it feels like they've been stuck forever. How can you have nothing to do and nowhere to be and still be late for the one appointment you've had in weeks?

The Italian Cultural Centre in Carlton is full of people today, and Alistair — who nobody likes but nobody knows — brought potato salad. Sometimes the important thing is to show up.

Damo has big news. In smaller news, Alistair, who nobody likes but nobody knows, has a sister, who unexpectedly accepts an invitation on his behalf.

It's Rhyme Time in the Carlton Library today and everyone's talking about the news … except for Frankie from 100, who eats strawberries in the park, because of course she does.

Fitzroy seems different today, but the roadworks stop for nobody, and neither do the conversations.

There are lots of cars in the street today. One is a white van. The other two are ambulances.

In which we meet Ruth Bader Ginsburg and walk to the post office.

It's one of those days where the fun slips out of everything, until the woman they call ‘bird lady' finally emerges from the abandoned house down the street.

The guy from the new apartment with the sharp yellow door is no match for Gayle's enormous recycling bin and Nicholson Street is no match for the jackhammers. Everybody's into it.

At the street party, everybody's there. Everyone, that is, except for Luminous Ute Guy. Zahra and the kids paint a chalk world under the chairs and don't worry because there's leftover pav for everyone.

The old Nonna's house goes up for auction. Alan, 83, who used to play with her as a kid, seems bereft. Greg and the couple from up the road — is it Alec and Marcus? — conspire to make things better. And Luminous Ute Guy shows his true colours.

Everything is the worst and it's cold and wet and what is with Luminous Ute Guy? Memories accompany bin night rituals and the identity of the nocturnal urinator becomes apparent.

The streets are hot and Gayle is annoyed about the person or persons who are peeing on her fence. She knows who it is though, don't you worry about that.

People don't look inside locked cars. Or at least, most of them don't. For a mother whose baby is asleep in the back, a parked car can be a private sanctuary. Until it isn't.

Gayle, the woman from up the road who "used to live in Brighton" turns out to have hidden depths. Because don't we all? And Greg quietly comes to the rescue of Alan.

Gertrude Street, once home to gangsters, now high-end retail, still has a playground. Queen of the playground is Zahra, born on the other side of the world. Alan, though, was born in the front room of his house 83 years ago. Some days it feels like a whole other world.

It's the end of the week and fire trucks light up the street. Alan, out the front of his house, hose in hand, knows everything. What he won't say, though, is what, exactly, is Luminous Ute Guy's problem.