Today I felt the smile of THEM-WHO-KNOW-EVERYTHING beaming down on me as I spent my last day in Hephzibah this year.
I caught the metro to Park St and visited the infamous Oxford Bookstore which is an institution in Hephzibah. It was established in 1919. I had a cup of coffee there in the Cha Bar. I suppose I should have had a cup of tea- there were heaps to choose from. I bought a couple of books and then strolled down the road enjoying the ambience of street life. I use the word ambience loosely.
At my favourite shopping market I managed to swap my too big a top for a smaller one despite the fact I had already worn and washed it. I also bought a new pair of baggy navy trousers. The pair I bought another day are a little short in the crutch and would likely split if I bent down too fast. If one behaved like a lady all of the time this would not be a problem. If anyone would like a pair of navy loose fitting pants they should make me an offer.
I dined on my favourite naan bread, drank a cup of coffee at my favourite café then decided to investigate the tram situation. I had this hunch I had seen a tram running that would take me close to home. In November several people who should have known vowed and declared that particular tram run had been discontinued.
Glory to THEM-WHO-KNOW-EVERYTHING I found the tram very fast and wouldn't you know it was about to leave. So I climbed on-board and made myself comfortable. I use the word comfortable loosely. Off we went. Past the statue of Ram Mohan Roy whom my great, great, great, great aunt Mary Carpenter knew and whom had invited her to Hephzibah. Past Victoria Memorial in the distance. Past Fort William. Half way past the race course and stop.
We all climbed down and there not that far away a tram had gone off the tracks. Literally. A tow truck was expected to come in half an hour to help it back on. Meanwhile at the race course it was race day.
A nice young man who was accompanying his mother on the tram because it was her birthday told me what was going on. His mother seemed very nice too. After I wished her happy birthday they invited me to share the taxi they were trying to catch. No taxi was willing to take them which is ironical because on the side of the cars are written No Refusal.
I waited around for a while but decided to catch a bus which took as long as the tram would have taken to travel to my stop because it took the long way home. It didn't matter to me. From my front seat in the bus I had a splendid last voyage home.
I caught the metro to Park St and visited the infamous Oxford Bookstore which is an institution in Hephzibah. It was established in 1919. I had a cup of coffee there in the Cha Bar. I suppose I should have had a cup of tea- there were heaps to choose from. I bought a couple of books and then strolled down the road enjoying the ambience of street life. I use the word ambience loosely.
At my favourite shopping market I managed to swap my too big a top for a smaller one despite the fact I had already worn and washed it. I also bought a new pair of baggy navy trousers. The pair I bought another day are a little short in the crutch and would likely split if I bent down too fast. If one behaved like a lady all of the time this would not be a problem. If anyone would like a pair of navy loose fitting pants they should make me an offer.
I dined on my favourite naan bread, drank a cup of coffee at my favourite café then decided to investigate the tram situation. I had this hunch I had seen a tram running that would take me close to home. In November several people who should have known vowed and declared that particular tram run had been discontinued.
Glory to THEM-WHO-KNOW-EVERYTHING I found the tram very fast and wouldn't you know it was about to leave. So I climbed on-board and made myself comfortable. I use the word comfortable loosely. Off we went. Past the statue of Ram Mohan Roy whom my great, great, great, great aunt Mary Carpenter knew and whom had invited her to Hephzibah. Past Victoria Memorial in the distance. Past Fort William. Half way past the race course and stop.
We all climbed down and there not that far away a tram had gone off the tracks. Literally. A tow truck was expected to come in half an hour to help it back on. Meanwhile at the race course it was race day.
A nice young man who was accompanying his mother on the tram because it was her birthday told me what was going on. His mother seemed very nice too. After I wished her happy birthday they invited me to share the taxi they were trying to catch. No taxi was willing to take them which is ironical because on the side of the cars are written No Refusal.
I waited around for a while but decided to catch a bus which took as long as the tram would have taken to travel to my stop because it took the long way home. It didn't matter to me. From my front seat in the bus I had a splendid last voyage home.
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