ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
His first mistake was to say he was going to his favourite hobby shop, which is right in the heart of our town’s Old City District.
The second was telling his wife that he was going to buy some new things for his large model train display in the garage.
“Oh good,” she said.
“You can pop into Aesop and get some more handwash,”
“Don’t think you can just fill it up with Palmolive again. I can tell the difference.”
So off he went.
He looked out the window of the D45 bus as it whirled up Mullholland Drive from Betoota Heights to the City. It’d been weeks since he’d heard the thud of the trolleybus’ pantographs on the roof as they clicked from one wire to the other.
Past all the empty boutiques, footpaths. People on push bikes in peacoats. Children wearing beanies. Leaves blowing.
London Plane leaves. He wondered if the person who decided they’d be a good thing to plant around here is able to sleep at night.
As quickly as he found himself lost in his thoughts, he arrived in the Old City and someone in a mask yelled at him to get off.
He through the gaping entrance hole to the Old City Westfield, he finally found the escalator and went up to the fourth floor.
The hobby shop was closed. It said on Google it was open.
So he went back down the magic steps and found the magic potion shop without even trying. It was open.
The lady behind the counter knew what he was coming for, she immediately directed him towards the hand soaps.
“I’ll take this one,” he said.
She smiled.
“Lovely. That’ll be $71.40,”
“Would you like a bag?”
He said yes and left thanking the nice lady for wishing him a good afternoon.
Arriving back at the bus depot, he saw a D45 just leaving the stop.
So he sat down on the bench, looked over at the people queuing to get into the Gelded Seahorse for a parmigiana and a middy of gold and laughed.
More to come.
