Men who are unhappy, like men who sleep badly, are always proud of the fact.

My baby takes the morning train afternoon bus from New Town to the city, then from the city to Geilston Bay. New Town Road. August 2010.

My God, it is Theme Thursday already. This one is a tricky one: BROWN.

Buses to me are BROWN. Technically speaking, Metro Tasmania buses are actually white and green, with splashes of yellow; but metaphorically, and more importantly metaphysically, buses are BROWN.

BROWN is functional. BROWN is enduring. BROWN in unheralded.

We all need a touch of BROWN in our life, but I’ve never heard anyone claim BROWN as his or her favourite colour.

Here in Australia people clamour to claim their green credentials, but forget that without any BROWN there can be no green. Green rants and raves and pats itself on the back; BROWN just gets the job done.

BROWN is Earth. BROWN is work. BROWN is triumph without adulation.

Nobody cheers a bus; but buses get me from A to B.