The bus times are different on a Saturday so I found myself with more time to wander around Caloundra than on previous mornings. Obviously I had a coffee in Kai Cafe but I also went to the top of Bulcock Street to top up my Go Card.
I tried to top it up at the Owl Convenience first but they were having an issue with their machine so, feeling in the wandering mood, I headed to the only other place (apart from on a bus) where I could go. His machine was working perfectly.
I’d never been that far up Bulcock before and was surprised to discover a Sex Shop sitting beside the newsagent. There’s also a bottle shop and I can guess which one has the more patronage. Ignoring the obvious pleasures afforded by both these establishments, I popped down to the IGA and did a bit of dairy shopping (milk, kefir, cheese) before heading back to the flat. On the way I was ‘tooted’ at by my landlady in a hire van.
When I reached the house she was standing waiting for me. She had forgotten the keys to the house and she was wondering if she could go through my accommodation to her place. Naturally I said of course, however did she remember that she’d locked the door that separates us?
She eventually went and met her husband who had the key and they went off on a catering job, which is what the van was for. Though not before telling me about the phenomenon known as Seenager-ship.
She says that at our age (she’s only two years younger than me) we are enjoying our second stint at being teenagers but it’s difficult because we have so much more data in our heads given the experiences we’ve collected since our first one. This means that, metaphorically, our brains are a bit bulgy.
The pressure of the bulge means we sometimes forget things which leads to doing increasingly silly things (like forgetting one’s keys) and this is because we are, in fact, almost seniors.
I agreed wholeheartedly with her explanation for the minor slips of memory and the need to live life fully but carefully. A wise women is my landlady.
Speaking of my landlady (and her husband)…the ceiling in the place I’m staying in is not particularly sound proof. So far this holiday I have heard footsteps going back and forth, shuffling that appears to be someone practising dance moves and what I can only assume are bed springs above my bed room. Not that I mind but it’s interesting what people are unaware of.
Enough of that though because today I saw Kelly, Jaxon and Maddy (as well as Denise and mum). They were up, staying with Denise and had come over to visit the residential place. I think one big reason was also so that Maddy could bounce on the frog in the playground.
And Maddy is a good name for her because she’s mad as the proverbial.
She reminds me of Kelly at that age. Everyone reckons it’s karma.
Jaxon, by contrast, is quite quiet, content to sit and play Pokemon or Lego games on Denise’s tablet. And he’s very chatty about it as well, assuming I know nothing and claiming I’m ridiculous for not knowing who Mimikyu is. (I’m fairly certain I had the exact same conversation with Rafi so I’m well versed in this Japanese cultural stuff.)
We had a lovely morning spent sitting by the cafe, being entertained by the kids. By the way, Maddy can’t say ‘Uncle Gary’ so I’m C’Gary…which I rather like.
Mum then went in to have her lunch while I said my goodbyes before settling down in the bar-b-que area with my book. After an hour I figured I’d been forgotten. There’s not a lot of people around on a Saturday and a couple of times I was mistaken for a resident. Eventually I figured I’d better be a bit more active or risk being medicated and confined to a bed ala Randle Patrick McMurphy.
I found the dining area empty and mum, happily reading in her room. She swore she hadn’t forgotten I was waiting.
After a lot of chat about the past, I headed back to Caloundra and my dinner date with Mitch and Nathalia.
They were very excited about taking me to this really, really nice restaurant at Dicky Beach. I thought it sounded very good. Mitch said they’d been wanting to go for at least six months. He’d been ringing all day but there’d been no answer. He’d even chosen what meal he was going to have from the on-line menu. We drove over.
We quickly discovered why Mitch hadn’t been able to rouse anyone with a phone call. The restaurant was not only closed it had moved to somewhere else. The building has been abandoned; boarded up and gathering tumbleweeds rather than patrons. It was very funny.
We wound up at the Surf Club at King’s beach where Mitch and I enjoyed our pork belly while Nathalia was put off food for life because of the all pervading taste of fennel.
Regardless of the food, we had a lovely chat, mostly about bad drinking experiences, until finally, they dropped me off perfectly fed and ready for bed.