The seven-hour lunch

Met Shazzie and Evie just after twelve, and we sauntered into town for a natter and some food. That was the plan, anyhow.

We popped into the Michaelhouse Cafe on Trinity Street for a cup of tea. The idea of this place seems to be: even if they’re going into a church just for tea and gossip, hey, they’re still going into a church – big ups to teh godz! Well, maybe not the last bit. I think cafes should branch out into religion. Oh, hang on, McDonalds. Scrub that.

Shazzie was keen to get some new clothes so the mysterious ladies’ shops were next. Sadly nothing fitted me. (Note that the previous sentence was a joke. In fact I bought a nice new skirt. Oh god, no. That was a joke too.)

We eventually lunched at about 3pm, in Ta Bouche. Evie slept throughout. I rashly plumped for an Espresso Martini to go with my spag pesto, which meant that I certainly wouldn’t be dozing off any time soon.

Unlunching at the scandalous time of about 4:30, more shopping was required. We spent the next hour in Kookai. Madam tried on all of the shop. Young madam scampered about under what could loosely be called my supervision; more than once she barged her way into other occupied changing cubicles. I think I may get myself an “I’m not the father” T-shirt for just such an occasion.

Buggy suitably laden with about a week’s output from a roomful of Vietnamese child labourers, we decided to sit on the grass by Castle Mound for an hour or so to let Evie run about and tire herself out.

I got back home from lunch at about 7:30.

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