I walked out the door, my dress shielding me from the wind.
There is a slight chill in the air, despite the blue sky.
I unlock the car door, and hop in. My boyfriend tags along, and starts up the car. We head down the street, passing the group of Japanese tourists who are gazing up the street, cameras in their hands.
They move onto the footpath as we approach.
He turns, and continues along the main road.
We pass a new food shop filled with people putting up signs, and stacking the shelves. It must be about to open I say to myself.
We continue pass the gardens, and head towards the bookstore.
My boyfriend finds a park across the street from the shop, and pulls in.
We get out of the car, I wait for a break in the traffic before crossing the busy one-way street, and he puts money into the parking meter.
I make it across safely, and wonder what the time is.
I go inside the store, and head towards the reserves desk.
I see my book on the top shelf, standing out from all the others.
A woman helps me, and gives me my book. Hard covers are nice. It has a black cover, and is thick. I had to get the shop to order it in because I wanted a hard-cover specially. The woman ordered online, and it had finally arrived. The author is very popular. A man who saw my book at the payment counter knew of it. He said it was about "robots". I said yes, and told him I had to order it. "You can get it at the library."
The man bought a Charles Darwin penguin classic. It was like translating
interests in books without speaking.
My boyfriend walked in, and I handed him his new book.
He told me about the sale upstairs, and disappeared.
I disappeared too, up the stairs and down the hallway to a room filled mainly with hard-cover books best for the coffee table.
I was treated to a brand new set of Fowlers.
Perfect.
We left, and hopped back into the car, driving past students and following cars finally arriving outside our front door.
We drift inside. First I go and sort out the washing.
I take our books out of their brown paper bags, and write a note inside.

French breakfast
Story_ Miss Parka

I open my door and step into the sunlight.
I walk down my street, past the villas, and pottery shop, and notice
the clear bright blue sky, and not a cloud in sight.
I notice people waiting at the many bus stops dotted along the vallley floor. I check my watch, it's not gone long after 8am here.
I turn into George Street, the traffic lights aren't working, so I follow the car in front of me, hesitating, and just keep going.
There is no one about as I go past the school, and head up the hill to the bakery.
I wonder if there will be anything left I say to myself.
I pull up next to the kerb, outside the Highgate store. People are crammed inside, brown paper bags in their hands filled with treats.
I wait behind a woman who is filling her bag with chocolate croissants.
I hope there are some left I think to myself.
Finally it is my turn, and two croissants still left in the basket.
I scramble in my handbag for change, and spot more croissants on another counter. Almond-coated croissants, $2 each, the sign says.
I figure I have enough, and know my husband will like them.
A lemon cake catches my eye as I turn to leave, "good for afternoon tea" I hear myself say.
I pay the man, and step outside the shop, brown paper bags in my hand, and one lemon cake.
I walk back to my car, a light breeze hits my skin, and the sun is still shining against the blue sky canvas.
I arrive home, and fetch my house keys from my handbag. I open my door.
Humphrey is still asleep, tucked beneath the possum duvet.
I make breakfast, a pot of coffee especially, I know the French like that.

Doing the washing?
So it's been pouring with rain, the sun has disappeared, and how is one supposed to get their basketfulls of washing done, amidst a schedule of children, computers, husbands, swimming, and lack of indoor space?
This predicament must have a solution for the many humans who contemplate every morning their daily activities.
Does everyone have water to do such a task? If not, what do people do? Do you just scrub the dirt off your clothes, and hang it out on the roof of your apartment block? Do you maybe, use your bottled water to rinse the muck off your clothes?
Maybe you don't own any other clothes other than what you are wearing, then what?
And then the sun magically appears, and so the race is on to get the washing out of your fancy electric machine, and onto your line.
One only hopes our very own nuclear reactor (the sun) stays around long enough to power up our clothes bathing in it's light.

Memoirs of Miss Parka
My Gran used to leave a glass of water, and a cupcake covered in pink or vanilla icing dotted with specks of hundreds and thousands next to my bed late at night, specially, and only to be eaten when I woke up.