As the #112 tram trundled down Collins St towards the Town Hall the barely perceptible hum grew. As I alighted the tram, the hum was now a drone - spooky, low, ever-present. It seemed to concern no-one else.
It could have been distant air-raid sirens. Or fighter jets circling the city. A warning of a soon to be post-apocalyptic world perhaps?
Realization soon hit me, nothing as melodramatic as all that - simply the sound of roaring Formula 1 engines drifting north across the Yarra river.
Ah well, the daydream was fun while it lasted.