It was a sunny Spring Wednesday afternoon. Usually at 5.30pm, midweek, I am drifting around my kitchen, thinking about the evening meal, or continuing other daily chores. On that Wednesday though, I was somewhere different. That day I found myself in the big city. I had navigated my way there through the (always heavy groan of) Sydney traffic. If only I could click my heels and be beamed into the centre of town... aaahh well. Perhaps I should start wearing heels.
I sipped tea and nibbled Nobby's nuts before going into the Seymour Centre, Sydney Uni, to listen to a public talk on the role of faith and religion in International Aid and Development.
Was this the sign of things to come? Who can tell?
I'm not going to give you the low-down: you ask your own questions. It was an interesting evening.
The following Wednesday, again, I was not in that lovely kitchen of mine, thinking about dinner. O no. Off I trotted again. Wiggle, waggle, weave your way through boats (or zoooooommmmmm across the water... that Zimbabwean likes to fly), walk to your car, wiggle waggle through the (not so bad this time) traffic and kabam! There I was, before anyone could say "When's Mama coming home?", dressed to the nines (make-up and all!), sitting at a funky little new place in an old place I used to know. And it was lovely! Lala dinner with lovely girls for endless conversation and a spunk of a Danish waiter serving us tea until nearly midnight. When our evening was over it was raining so I snuggled into the guest bed of my mainland "holiday house" and patted my back on the decision not to take myself home.
The feeling was delicious. It was that next morning feeling. I'd been away for a whole night. I'd read my book in bed for a whole 20 minutes before rising, and then had a morning free of cooking porridge and preparing school lunches. When my family met me at the wharf at 8.30am, they didn't even look as if they had missed me! The Zimbo said that the morning was "too easy" and I should do it more often!
I tell you what... Wednesdays are beginning to get exciting.
I sipped tea and nibbled Nobby's nuts before going into the Seymour Centre, Sydney Uni, to listen to a public talk on the role of faith and religion in International Aid and Development.
Was this the sign of things to come? Who can tell?
I'm not going to give you the low-down: you ask your own questions. It was an interesting evening.
The following Wednesday, again, I was not in that lovely kitchen of mine, thinking about dinner. O no. Off I trotted again. Wiggle, waggle, weave your way through boats (or zoooooommmmmm across the water... that Zimbabwean likes to fly), walk to your car, wiggle waggle through the (not so bad this time) traffic and kabam! There I was, before anyone could say "When's Mama coming home?", dressed to the nines (make-up and all!), sitting at a funky little new place in an old place I used to know. And it was lovely! Lala dinner with lovely girls for endless conversation and a spunk of a Danish waiter serving us tea until nearly midnight. When our evening was over it was raining so I snuggled into the guest bed of my mainland "holiday house" and patted my back on the decision not to take myself home.
The feeling was delicious. It was that next morning feeling. I'd been away for a whole night. I'd read my book in bed for a whole 20 minutes before rising, and then had a morning free of cooking porridge and preparing school lunches. When my family met me at the wharf at 8.30am, they didn't even look as if they had missed me! The Zimbo said that the morning was "too easy" and I should do it more often!
I tell you what... Wednesdays are beginning to get exciting.
I'm sure the La-La's could accommodate more regular mainland, weeknight adventures and you get priority booking rights at your holiday house ;)
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