It was cooler today. Although the heat still lingered in pockets. And damp, too.
Pliny and Nostradamus went to town to do some Christmas shopping. They walked across the parklands under a powder grey sky, a sharp scent of eucalyptus rising from the earth.
In David Jones Pliny bought a tin of Love Balm. You've been pre-approved for a David Jones American Express card, said the shop assistant. But I don't want one, said Pliny. This would be the worst possible time in the entire history of the planet to get one, she thought, but did not add.
They bought some socks, and Christmas stickers, then walked down Rundle Street. They could see the distant hills. Olive grey hills, covered in a faint and steamy mist. Pliny was thinking: everything is grey today. A man walked by in red shoes.
On their way home, Pliny and Nostradamus stopped in Norwood to shop. They walked through a hot corridor, smelling of yesterday, to The Parade. The Parade was blocked off to all traffic. A crowd, gathered near a row of red racing cars, chatted in a desultory way.
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