Thursday, July 20, 2017


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·         I live on top of a lovely hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Opposite me is a green, bird-filled cliff-top park, which I have to cross to get to the steep slope leading down to ‘the flat’ where most of the shops arein this day and age.

·       The other night we had a storm. The loudest, strongest tropical storm I have ever experienced. The noise of it actually knocked me to my knees as I raced to shut the front door. But in fifteen minutes it was past … leaving wrecked telephone and internet facilities in its wake.

·       Come the morning, I stepped out into the white sunshine, off to do my shopping. Everything was washed spotlessly clean. And there, on the park railings, was a pair of ladies’ shoes. Not jandals or beach shoes, proper extremely-high-heeled slippers … Odd. Had someone gone for an early morning bathe in everything but her footwear? Oh well.

·       Next morning they were still there. I couldn’t see a suicidal Cinderella floating in the ocean … Odd.
     Next morning they were still there. They clearly weren’t going to go away. A fat female person of daunting aspect walked by: ‘They yours?’. Cheeky tart. Imagine me in silver slippers with the heel five inches higher than the toes. I, who can barely walk in sandals!

·       Finally, today, I brought them home. I don’t know why, they just looked so dramatically silly there. No, I’m not going round all the size 10 damsels in Yamba looking for one who fits … by of Cinderella likes to send a pumpkin with four white horses this way, she can have her shoes back.

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