some work with me. I went shopping with my sister. I do not like shopping but this was 'essential stuff' - food not stocked by the local shops.
Shopping with my sister is an experience. She inevitably arrives later than she says she will. I am prepared for that. I always tell Dad we will back much later than she says we will be. That way he will not worry quite as much when she is delayed.
She arrived only half an hour late and we took off for Gaganis. This is a warehouse on the other side of the CBD. It stocks bulk food - a lot of it Greek or otherwise Mediterranean in nature. It is (dis)organised according to a Greek male's idea of how to cook. (Do not get me wrong. Greek men are brilliant at barbecues - if you like meat.)
We have to pull over twice on the way for her to have a conversation on her mobile. Hers is hands free and she can use it in traffic but she has the sense not to. Yes, I would much rather wait for her to finish talking!
We arrive and, wonder of wonders, discover a parking spot near the entrance. All I have to do is get out and move sundry shopping trolleys and then use one for us.
We go into the barn. There is a security guard at the door. This is new. There was an attempted robbery a couple of weeks back the guard tells us. He lets us in. We are apparently not a threat. (Not a threat?)
My sister goes hunting for the haloumi. She buys this cheese by the bucket load for her family. I go hunting for pumpkin and sunflower seeds, barley and almond meal. We then both go hunting for other things that Helen needs. She really does buy in bulk. There are two growing 'boys' in her family - aged 20 and 22. They still eat a lot. So do their friends. The friends seem to descend regularly. There is blue gum honey on special so I succumb and buy some of that.
They do not stock rye, wheat or barley flakes. You cannot make muesli without these - not according to my father. Helen informs me that we will head for the natural food shop in the Central Market - after she has picked up "the signs".
I never did find out what the signs were or what they were for. We find the place after a detour to a greengrocery so she can get a banana. It is 3pm and she has not had any lunch. I was wise enough to eat something before we left. I wait in the car and do a little work. We arrive at the sign place and I wait in the car. I wait in the car. I wait in the car. She eventually returns forty minutes later. The job had not been finished so she had to wait. I had an entire page translated by then and had started on the second one.
She starts the car and her 'phone rings. She switches off. I translate some more while she talks.
We then head into the market. No car park spaces. "I should have dropped you off," she tells me. Well, yes that would have been a good idea. It would have saved time. I walk back while she tries to find somewhere she can park for more than the loading zone allows. She has a disability sticker which means we get 20 mins in a loading zone but we are both conscious it IS a loading zone.
I race frantically around the shop gathering up the things I need. She saunters in having another conversation. "It's all right. I found another park." Ah yes, all right for her. I sneak a peek at the time. Dad will be wondering - no worrying. She sees me, sighs and rings to let him know we have been delayed. I think about getting work e-mailed back to people who will soon be starting to head into their various offices on one side of the world or leaving their offices on the other.
We make it back. I load up the work I have done and send it off. There is more waiting - but I consider I have the right to put the kettle on first.