Aussie Summer Tales (2)

For a moment I thought they might have really been special residents from the local estate, or at least some odd orphans from the Children’s Home up the road. They were peculiar enough. I recoiled. ‘Er, where exactly are you from? I mean no one goes around in so much hot clothing on a hundred-degree day.’

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Out of the Chocolate Box (11)

As I negotiated the now lime green corridors on the Sister Ship, I met a willowy young mother, Monica and her two-year-old son. Her boy was so cute with Mediterranean features, olive complexion, wide brown eyes and a tumble of dark curls. Dr Mario’s, Minna had told me. Poor Liesel, the blonde, I mean, Monica, had won that battle.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (4)

Chirp! Chirp! My mobile phone vibrated sounding like a cricket. I flopped over the mattress to the bedside and grabbed the phone. An envelope on screen symbolised a text message. From him? How kind! An explanation perhaps. I fumbled with the miniscule keys on screen. You’re late! Ferry leaves in 15 minutes. No indication who sent the message. Just a very unhappy emoji, was all.

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The Raw Deal (3)

‘Not here in Australia. Not since,’ she lowered her voice, ‘I mean it got taken away in the ‘3o’s when we became a republic and,’ her eyes darted in the direction of a hologram of a popular avatar from a neighbouring country to Australia, ‘sold our country to—you know.’

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