Insect Adventures

Last night I was watching Tess of the D'Urbervilles on the television. My daughter was sitting on the floor at my feet and I was plaiting her hair. It was supposed to look like Tess's hair but I had done it wrong. I know what's wrong, I said. Tess has two plaits, one on each side of her head. Oh, said my daughter, so she does.

Just then a large ant emerged from under a table and meandered over the carpet towards us. It became disoriented by a cable but recovered its sense of direction and continued to approach. It probably would have passed us by without incident, but Tess of the D'Urbervilles builds up a certain amount of resentment in a person. Why does she have such rotten luck when she's so pretty? Why are all the men so horrid to her when she's so good? I therefore reached down and with the forefinger of my left hand crushed the ant to death. O mother! said my daughter. It was heading towards my bedroom, I said lamely.

This morning I was in the city with my daughter, helping her shop for clothes for her new job. We went into a ritzy-looking shop in Rundle Street called Lisa Ho. Look at this, said my daughter, pointing to an interesting decorative feature on a dress in one of the racks. How unusual it was, a little grey-brown moth embroidered on the left shoulder. Then we realised that it looked too much like a real moth. No, said my daughter, it couldn't be. But when I poked it, it fluttered to the floor and landed near the open doorway of the shop. Where is it? I asked, because I couldn't see it then. I hoped I hadn't killed by mistake. It's there by the door, said my daughter. I was glad. I bent down and shooed it into the street.

The Beauty Of Cool

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.