Yesterday was spent cleaning up the mess of the car break in. I drove around with our taxi-driver friend, looking for replacement glass. We started down the road at his fatherapos;s cousinapos;s brotherapos;s shop (? I got very confused too. I thought it was his grandfather, but luckily I didnapos;t say anything about age etc) but, in the vast collection of things in big cardboard boxes, there was no window to match my car.
Next, off to the apos;new partsapos; car place. Our taxi-driver did all the talking because he knows everyone. It was kinda weird, because they all spoke in Hindi. I could pick up an idea of what was going on, but not really. I could have done this alone, but with an Indian Man, it takes probably a quarter of the time.
We left the car and walked a couple of blocks to the police station to pick up my police report. Of course our taxi-driver had been to school with the policeman, so that was a nice reunion. The report wasnapos;t quite ready, so we had a look at the local shops.
One shop Iapos;ve been keen to go into for ages. It looks like an old Australian milk bar from the front, and itapos;s called "Supa Dairy."
This name connects with me in a way Iapos;d completely forgotten. As a child, I had a very good friend. We had lots of sleepovers and would talk way into the night. One of her favourite things to talk about was a boy at her school who was really dreadful. I canapos;t remember all the stories. The only one I remember is that he used to eat banana Paddlepops all the time, so his mouth was always dirty with banana icecream and he smelt of fake banana.
I had no child in my class who could compete, so I invented one. This was not an imaginary friend, but a kid who did terrible things I could talk about. I canapos;t rememember a single story I made up The thing is, his name was Alan Superdairy. What the hell I was thinking when I made that name up I have no idea, but to see a shop called, "Supa Dairy" makes me smile.
So I popped into the Supa Dairy and what a funny, dusty old place it was. I bought two packets of Faber Castell lead pencils (75cents per pack) and said, "This shop looks like an Australian milk bar."
The owner got very happy and said, "Yes, it used to be be a milk bar" Now she has old note books, pencils and dusty boxes containing who knows what.
The policeman came and found us with the police report, the window was fixed and that was my day.
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