Conversational Carousel

Bureaucratic lawyers fair bet couple tables behind with the tones reminiscent of Julia Gillard and the rest of that Labour salaried crowd. Pair entertaining her mother over lunch. They have a dog or cat at home, a herb garden and water tanks. (She mentioned the second; other kinds of plantings were too difficult to maintain.) Three mentions of his: a recent movie’s plot outline and the main character; a tennis match featuring a bearded player such as himself who lost to Nadal (some daft person said he looked just like him); then at two o’clock there was the auction. (She had asked for the time. House auctions one of the chief pillars on the green coastal fringe of this country, providing compelling theatre.)  Earlier she had mentioned gentrification with the usual connotation. (Perhaps her parents had lived the early years of their marriage in the west; hers was not eastern or bayside inflection.) Recipes. Chap knew his way around the kitchen, shared chores &etc. (A cleaner once a week or fortnight.) Federal pollies as distinct from state for the mother’s benefit – the youngsters prepared docs in one of the departments, drafting position papers and answering constituents. The brighter ones in their circle did if not them; in which case theirs was more routine work. How to manage the parking? Go move the car,  or they could return home and…. There was a French bakery down the road that surprised the mother. Yes, French (in Footscray); the daughter hadn’t patronised as yet. (The café available at a Viet place hardly.) Hardly a squeak from the old mum throughout despite all the talk being directed at her and channeled through her. Little of gaps and the poor dear might have found the going hard. Not football fans; not one single mention in the half hour. There was a women’s competition now heavily promoted by the league and in the media, gender re-balancing, fuller community participation &etc. It was not for her. (Camping, bushwalking, wine and movies more like.) What else? The pollie notables was the longest thread in a fast moving conversational carousel. Did mum recognize any of the names? would she know the faces from the  television? If they were not ministers or shadow doubtful. There had been a fear the former No. 1 Dude/Hombre who had slept with Jules in the Lodge might in fact suddenly appear with his bird’s nest down onto his chest. A hairdresser had another shtick altogether, but the best of them were highly adaptable with their rattle. Bo De Trai Vegetarian on Hopkins Street opposite the market for a change. Glimmers of some of the beautifully simple interiors up on the peninsular, one particularly recalled in the back streets of Malacca