Wet Saturday

Sydney is not always fine and dandy, sometimes it's humid and wet, like today. Showers every ten minutes, no-one seemingly dressed for the weather, (as it's always perfect...ahem), so today I am out early to catch two buses to Bondi Jn to meet up with A and perhaps even find a cheap pair of moccasins, as that is exactly what I need now to take to Minneapolis -  I suddenly realised I have no proper shoes and slip-on moccasins are perfect for travel. If I can find them anywhere it'll be in the shoppers' paradise of Bondi Junction. I arrive early-ish, at  930, in good time for my RV at 11am, but find most retailers closed, probably till ten. So I decide to look at Westfield Plaza with all the department stores, which are of course open, but hideously expensive. You have to be savvy when shopping here, as it also caters for the filthy rich at Bellevue Hill.

 After a nice strong coffee and friand to set me going, and a good spray of Armani cologne from David Jones, I am ready to attack the shoe shops, sure now be open. At this Coffee Club franchise where I am being served by a French sounding waiter, I am surrounded by elderly gents reading their obligatory Saturday Sydney Morning Herald, which is, as against the regular format published in the traditional large, unmanageable size to satisfy the needs of their age-old client base I presume. It is a strange anomaly I think, but worth a thought, as the days of the hard copy news journals are numbered, certainly done and dusted for Gen Y. And as for me, in news free NZ, reading the papers are a quaint souvenir of how little there is to read in them.

Now on to the Food Mall at DJ's for some patisseries for after lunch today.

My excellent waiter...

..and my obsessive news hound neighbour.

Friend A with her flatmate.