As I have stated repeatedly, we very seldom go to town, which is solely laziness and lack of imagination. I was glad when Morag suggested that we go our for afternoon tea in town, although Saturday afternoon is perhaps not the best time from the parking perspective. I knew it would be tough and had a wide margin, but it took me about half an hour to get from the side street into the parking structure. At least the cars were moving, albeit slowly, so I knew from previous experience that sooner or later I'll be there. Somebody will eventually leave. It's just the matter of finding that single space in the six-storey structure. I had plenty of time and only two things to do, one of which was to collect the red-dot finder for my telescope from a shop, which went smoothly even though I had lost the receipt. The young man in the shop remembered me (shall I be flattered? He probably remembered that nuisance of an old lady). The second task was a bank and I didn't have much hope of finding an open bank on a Saturday afternoon, but I did.Yet another thing to cross out from the To-Do list.
With still half an hour to spend, I walked slowly around, browsed the market stalls, wandered, completely by chance, into a bookshop, toward the magazine shelf, and bought not just one and not even two but three dollhouse magazines - but I was a good girl and bought no books. Crowds, crowds, vibrant city, gorgeous in the sun that suddenly appeared after a heavy shower.
The eclairs in the tea shop, Pattiserie Valerie, tasted childhood.