When I told Hannah this morning the Blog site was up and running, she was excited. "I bet there is no one else at the Seniors Centre with a blog site."
We set off on foot for the "The Local", a café not a pub. The average age is 32 years and four months, which is calculated after the two of us, both sixty-seven, are included.
At such places we are the invisible couple; we might as well be ghosts. Hannah ordered at the counter and rushed back. "You have to pay, I don't have my purse.” In the micro-second it took to reach the counter, the cashier was on the phone posing demurely for a caller who couldn’t see her. She sensed an apparition, which was me, and asked, "What can I get you? Oh, that's right, you're here to pay."
Hannah had chosen a breakfast called The Acai. The name was printed in the menu with a symbol above or below one of the letters but I can't remember either the symbol or the letter.
Two types of Acai were on offer: ''Naughty'' and "Nice". Both were $8.50 which is market price. Hannah chose Nice and enjoyed it until she reached the bottom and struck chocolate ice-cream, or so she thought. It was black and cold. I looked at the menu and decided it was the strawberry coulis, but on the way out I approached the owner “Hannah loved the ack-eye (I thought it was a hard “c”) but we were wondering ..."
“… Ass-eye …"
“ ... what the cold stuff is at the bottom of the bowl. Is it strawberry coulis?"
"It is the Acai. We puree it in a blender.”
I said it was very nice but he was pulling a lever that produced the sound of a road train’s hydraulic brakes depressurising. I had faded from view.