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 are, in this day and age, and, more importantly, the unparalleled Yamba Farmers' Market.
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-ish 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 … but if Cinderella likes to send a pumpkin with four white horses this way, she can have her shoes back.
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-ish 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 … but if Cinderella likes to send a pumpkin with four white horses this way, she can have her shoes back.
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