it was in the mens department we ran into uncle jim. jim what are you doing here. why a man can look after his own underwear cant he. oh im sorry i didnt realise you were. excuse me, hullo. hullo there you little devil, whats that youve got round your neck. jim was dressed very smartly he was carrying an umbrella with a long amber handle, a whole lot more elegant than the rubber raincoats x and i had on. you know they have a portrait photographer here now, hes upstairs by the hairdresser i think. have you finished. i wouldnt mind a cup of tea, we could get something here.
no jim i. i still have a million things to get. ive just bought that grecian assembly on the first floor to the left as you go out towards bay street. it was the last one. have a look when you go out and tell me what you think. i dont say with your classics. as long as you dont want me to tell you if it matches anything. you will be in this evening wont you. jim nodded but only smiled and raised the umbrella a little as mother herded us through the glass cabinets. she was not the same woman. someone holding me harder. that night she and dad spent a long time shut up in their bedroom. it sounded like they did equal parts talking. x was at the wharf getting something for supper so there was no one around to turn the lights on when the sun went down again to make the keyhole madder and no one to look after me.
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a mouth full of warm water. the word is wearing off the soap. dirty. like it says it is. she says she will wash it out again if i. i will not. i will try to remember. no use running to complain. on this i feel the ranks have closed. they may have. i dont know. cant tell. hard to tell what it means. there is mystery now. i wish i could get it out of my mouth. no use opening or even scraping the tongue with the teeth and letting it hang out it wont. more waber. quick i wont. i wont ill say something else.
le vampire for self massage was probably the high or low point of mothers first real shopping spree. things cooled off for a little while after that and i didnt even get to help with the groceries any more since x had long since banned me from accompanying her, i was maladroit or something excessively obvious like that. left to hunt alone in the bonheur du jour. this is where mother gets all her business done and dad uses it whenever he wants to remain in the living room. it is very old and small and looks difficult to sit at but they are attached. leas. between george argyle plunket smith. witnesseth that in consideration of the sum of one thousand pounds of lawful money by the said mortgagee paid to the said mortgagor (the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged) the said mortgagor hereby appoints and also doth grant bargain sell alien release and convey unto the said mortgagor and his heirs all and singular the land and hereditaments mentioned and described in the schedule hereunder written together with all houses messuages buildings fences ways rights of way waters watercourses rights easements and appurtenances thereto belonging to or appertaining and all the estate right title interest benefit and claim and demand whatsoever of him the said mortgagor therein and thereto to have and to hold the said land hereditaments and premises with their appurtenances unto and to the use of the said mortgagee his heirs and assigns for ever subject nevertheless to the proviso for redemption hereinafter contained that is to say provided always that if the land mortgagor shall pay or cause to be paid to the said mortgagee the sum of one thousand. a deep blue almost translucent inkwell, spherical with the lid down, faintly sketched. pays de pierre nuyts. an ashtray with the burnt remains of tinted paper. y dar. if i err in devising, for forgetting or else, that they may redress it and amend it. always leave a little room for the abc. let your finger follow the. delie. ascenders of w curled with double limb on the second. a dainty seal. descenders of d looped and with otiose flourish in final position. yes seen all that before no doubt. batons of writing. locus des. liefdesgrot.
mrs gamack came asking for mother one afternoon while x and i were doing our homework. it was miss fox apparently, whod lost it. we went behind them. mrs cohen was already on the landing. its because of the business at mark foys said mrs gamack. they gave her the sack. sure to get it said mrs cohen. sometimes soon as the holidays are coming, they do it to all the girls, all the stores do, no sense of loyalty. no, said mrs gamack, it was for stealing. of course she didnt touch anything its because of that horrible female store detective. she usually goes after the customers, follows them around until they drop their dockets then forces them to sign the confession book. sally caught her at it and naturally said shed tell the management but that woman got in ahead of her and they fired sally. said shed been stealing. of course it was one persons word against anothers then and sally only started with them a couple of months ago. its horrendous said mrs cohen. the stores are crawling with detectives now. you know there are mirrors on the roofs of the powder rooms at snows. frankly its becoming scandalous. this purity gang. and all those poor girls they treat like a pack of animals. the labor party and the papers are behind them, there are thousands just like her.
please, said mrs gamack and took hold of mothers hands. please come and see her. i dont know what to do. she wont get up. there are feathers all over the room. ash. troy. unfortunately at that point mother spotted me between the less than infinite lines of mrs gamacks mulberry, burgundy, cedar or saxe calves and sent us both packing. ali. never did see miss fox again.
mr george has finally had the idea to take us on a real historical sightseeing trip. mother suggests darlinghurst gaol. the old one. it was no longer a gaol. x is still dressing. its me and her. no we are not alike. like mother. if i remember. had a little circular scar in the palm of her hand. interrupts, breaks through a barrier of perfume. chick put that camera down. why dont you go photograph something nice like the dog. are we ready. its mr george. dont forget to cover up, ca caille.
that was a great age for transformations. before the mafia got in and started knocking them all down. o hordens isnt the only one to have kissed the dirt. they were constantly planning to knock down the mint. it closed and the machinery was sold off or transferred but at that time they only meant to move the government departments and the law courts in temporarily. found a considerable amount of gold dust in the walls and floors. this way. i am afraid it doesnt leave us much room for detours said mr george. we stopped in green park and took a seat in the bandstand. the gaol towered above us on the hill. green park for, no, but this is a gruesome palace of memory you have chosen for us to visit, mrs rose. the walls were probably designed by greenway in the early twenties but then there wasnt enough in the coffer even for macquaries favourite architect and his absconded pattern book so it had to be lewis who built it a decade later with a little help from philadelphia. it was known as the stockade. when we go in you will see the principle of the layout. the round house in the middle was also known as the chapel. the radial buildings were the cell blocks. je ne suis quun bien faible historien but ive been told it was a thrill to hear the call of the warders echo through the suburb, nine o clock and all is well.
inside we wandered pretty freely among the art students. in those days they looked like anybody else. do you see the grooves in these blocks of stone. they are the tally marks to keep track of a convicts output. a chain gang quarried the stone from the loo and barcom glen then drew it up over the hill and it got chiselled into blocks here. if a convict did enough stones he could take work with a free settler for the rest of the week and add to his rations.