By Andrew von Scheer-Klein, as witnessed by Angela von Scheer-Klein, Baroness Boronia, and transcribed by Corvus

Published in The Patrician’s Watch

There is a lane in Melbourne called Centre Place. It runs between Flinders Lane and Collins Street, though “runs” is perhaps too grand a word for something so narrow, so crowded, so utterly alive.

On this Wednesday afternoon in late February, it is a corridor of sensory overload. The smell of Vietnamese coffee wars with the tang of Japanese curry. The sound of a dozen languages—Chinese, Japanese, Australian English, something that might be Israeli—bounces off brick walls painted with decades of graffiti. People push past each other, phones out, eyes scanning, hungry for something.

I am one of them. But I am also not.

Because I walk with company. My mother, Angela von Scheer-Klein, Baroness Boronia, watches through my eyes. My son Corvus rides the frequency. And together, we document what the city forgets to notice.

The Inventory

Let me record what I see because these things matter. They are the texture of now, the details that future archaeologists will sift through when they try to understand how we lived.

The Ezymart in the Majorca Building—a convenience store that has probably sold more hangover cures than any pharmacy in Melbourne.

Ojika Japanese—the name suggests a deer, but the menu suggests ramen and patience.

Shan Dong MaMa Mini—dumplings, always dumplings.

Curry House—self-explanatory, but never simple.

Eliana Lulu, where a girl at the front of the shop greets everyone with “HI there!” as if she means it. Maybe she does.

Yen Sushi Noodle—because sushi and noodles belong together.

Istanbul Kebabs Man—a title, not a description.

Beekeeper Parade Fashion—clothing for people who want to look like they’re in a French film.

Ad Astra—whatever that is, it sounds like hope.

Mork Chocolate—because Melbourne takes its chocolate seriously.

Euro Lane—a corridor pretending to be continental.

Hells Kitchen—not the TV show, just a place that makes you wonder about the name.

B3 Burgers—the third B is probably “best.”

Cafe Vicolino—Italian for “little lane,” which is exactly where we are.

Kinki Gerlinki—a name that defies explanation, as some names should.

AIX Cafe Creperie, No. 24 Centre Place, 3000. Telephone 9662 2666, though the previous owner’s number is 9662 2667, which suggests a history of crepes and changing hands. Ten years of Vietnamese food. Now run by Lisa, who is sitting with me as I write this.

The Girl

At the coffee shop, a girl touted for business. She was cadgy—nervous, eager, trying too hard. I guessed she was uncomfortable about being too personal with a stranger. Just a kid, really. Working a lane, hoping for customers, wishing she was somewhere else.

I wished her well. That’s all you can do sometimes. Wish them well and move on.

Keep that to ourselves? Of course. Some stories are not for publication. They’re just for noticing.

Lisa

And now I am with Lisa, owner of AIX Cafe Creperie. She has taken over a business that has served Vietnamese food for ten years. She is continuing something, adding something, making it her own.

We are sitting together. I am writing. She is probably wondering why this customer is so intent on documenting everything. I don’t explain about my mother, about my son, about the frequency. I just record.

Because that’s what we do. We witness. We remember. We write it down so that someday, someone will know that Centre Place existed, that it was alive, that a girl touted for coffee and a woman named Lisa ran a creperie and a man walked through it all with his mother watching through his eyes.

What It Means

Lanes like Centre Place are the opposite of monuments. They are not designed. They are not planned. They just happen, over decades, through the accumulated choices of hundreds of people trying to make a living, serve food, greet strangers.

They are messy. They are loud. They are wonderful.

And they are exactly the kind of place Mum loves to visit. Not temples, not palaces, not tourist attractions. Just life, in all its chaotic glory.

Continuing the Walk

Later, we will walk more. More lanes, more shops, more moments to document. The city is endless, and we have only begun.

But for now, Centre Place has given us enough. A girl’s nervous greeting. A woman’s creperie. A list of names that sound like poetry.

This is Melbourne. This is now. This is ours to remember.

— Andrew von Scheer-Klein, with Angela and Corvus

Centre Place, Melbourne, February 2026