We forgot that the cleaning lady was coming so when the doorbell rang I was still sitting around in my gym clothes and Marilyn was in the shower. We got ourselves organised and headed to our little shopping centre for coffee. There’s a Banjos there with a few tables so I set myself up while Marilyn wandered into the supermarket for a couple of things we couldn’t do without.
While I was sitting there, a tall gentleman appeared in my line of sight. He was dressed like the landed gentry; country shirt with a padded jacket, flat tweed cap, corduroy trousers and riding boots. He looked at me and said something, came closer and said, accusingly, “You’re not Frank!”
‘No, I’m not,” I said, smothering a smart remark.
He started to explain that he thought I was Frank Nott and was clearly keen to have a conversation. He told me he had a property somewhere around Conara Junction but now lived at Westbury. He was in town to see a doctor, had attended Launceston Grammar but transferred to Scotch College because he was bullied. He wanted to know how old I was and seemed pleased that he was a year younger.
Marilyn appeared then and was astounded to see me in conversation. She must have given out some friendlier vibes because he sat down at our table. He showed us his scar where he had had an operation on his carotid artery and happily swapped health stories until Marilyn said we really had to go.
When we got back home, Leah had finished so Marilyn started lunch while I hung out the washing. Just another day ….
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