“Bear, would you like to come for a drive down Pleasant Street?” I asked.
“Why? It’s quite cold outside,” said Bear.
“Just because I do Bear.”
“That’s what you always say when you don’t have a reason or you don’t want to tell me til we get there.”
“Okay. You are right. I will tell you as we go.”
“Can you see right across the lake between last two boat houses there is a silver sign?”
“No. I can’t,” said Bear.
“All right then I’ll take a close up.”
“Can you see the black dog and the green roof?”
“That, dear Bear, is the start of Pleasant Street! It is right where the school is.”
“What’s so special about Pleasant Street?” Bear insisted.
“Don’t you think a street with such a nice name is worth looking at?”
“I suppose so. Can we go home now it’s time for Duck to come and have biscuits.”
“Not yet, Bear. We haven’t started.”
We drove around the lake to the start of Pleasant Street and I asked Bear to climb up the fence of the Primary School for a photograph.
I wanted him to sit up straighter but he was frightened of falling off. I was a bit concerned as well and that’s why the photo is a bit shaky.
“We are going all the way down this street until we get to the end and we will see just how pleasant it can be.”
“How far?” Bear asked. He was thinking about biscuits.
“About three kilometres, Bear. That’s not far.”
“It is if you keep stopping to take photos.” He grumbled.
We drove up to the first roundabout crossing and Bear got out so I could take another photo of him with his back to Mair Street.
Bear is looking across Pleasant Street to the city Oval where they were preparing for a football match.
“Can we go in there, John? Before too many people arrive?”
I thought that would be a good idea.
Bear sat on an electrical junction box and wanted to wait for the game to start.
“Let’s keep going Bear. The game doesn’t start for quite a while.”
Further down the street we came to an old Milk Bar. It was one of those that used to be on every street, in every town, until the big supermarkets and shopping centres arrived and destroyed so much of local small business.
“Can we go in?” Bear asked.
“I guess so,” I said. But we were disappointed.
“Closed on Sundays says the sign.”
Bear kept falling off the fence but a friendly fellow held him there while I took the photograph. We thanked him and drove down to the end of Pleasant Street. Our journey was nearly at an end.
We started at the Pleasant Street Primary School and we finished at the Redan Primary School.
“It’s much older,” said Bear. “I wonder how old it is?”
“I think I can show you, Bear.”
“Redan is a funny name, John. What’s it mean?”
“It is an historical name, Bear. Many years ago there was a war in a place called the Crimea. And one of the battles was for a city called Sevastopol and there was a special shaped fort called a Redan. This war was going on at the same time that Ballarat was starting when the Gold Rush was on. That’s why so many names in Ballarat are from that area. I’ll tell you about them some other time.”
“Only if you want to John. Don’t go to trouble on my account. Can we go home now. Duck might be waiting.”
Duck was waiting so the two of them had biscuits in a special bowl that was a present from Bear’s mother.
Bear was content to chat with Duck and didn’t ask why I had taken all the photos of Pleasant Street. But some of you may like to know.
You might realise by now, if we have been blogging together for a while, that making virtual friends is just as important in many ways as making real friends. So when I chanced upon a new blogger who had many followers who were known to me, I needed to investigate. And I was thrilled that I did. So this post is especially for Rose who lives somewhere near Chicago. Her blog is called Pleasant Street and you can see that I have linked it. And now you may understand the ambiguity of the heading at the top of this post. You may punctuate it as you wish.