Parents Day 2

Saturday Oct 25

Having just found out about a cheap membership deal, I was in a hurry to enlist at the nearby gym, and I walked into Bronte bright and early. The gym is the equivalent of the Y at home: nothing fancy or pretentious, just simple equipment, shabby carpet, local regulars, and supercheap rates. Along with my 12-month membership, I acquired a free one-hour session with either Lisa, who “teaches the girls core strength,” or Stuart, who indicated quite openly that I would not particularly enjoy his “hard weights and power lifting” course. (When I said “Oh I definitely would like to improve my lifting,” he sort of blinked slowly at me and repeated, a little louder, “Lisa teaches the girls core strength.”)

Mom and Dad and I hopped the 380 bus to Circular Quay, but halfway there, passing the Paddington Market, we impulsively clambered off. Mom really enjoyed ringing the bell to tell the driver we wanted to stop. The market at Paddington on Saturday mornings is the best ever: an enormous crafts market with hand-carved peppershakers as long as your forearm, homemade candles and jewelry and soap, feathered and bejeweled fascinators for ladies’ hair, and Mom’s particular favorites, the handmade unique clothing, and the stall of hearty little succulents (sadly, no way to get those pretty potted plants through Customs).

Following the advice of Mom’s guidebook, we headed down a side street and found some tiny, posh stores, including a milliner’s, a jeweler, a barbershop, a Continental deli and The London, a famous tavern. Then we walked up Paddington Street, admiring the lines of sycamores. Dad took some great photos of the flowers, the fleur-de-lys and wrought iron grills on the houses.

We lunched at the Paddington Arms (me: lamb souvlaki, Mom: Sheppard’s pie, Dad: bangers and mash). Then we strolled farther up Oxford Street, as far as Victoria Barracks. Drawn by a big sign advertising an Antiques Sale, we walked through the gate and up the path to a huge, historic old house, packed with beautiful 18th-century French pieces, huge armoires, marble-topped and gold-gilded tables. The salesman was quite snippy at our attempts to admire the house—long polished banisters, small creaky servants’ quarters, wraparound balconies—and our obvious non-intent to purchase any sixty thousand dollar bureaus.

We caught the bus home and Mom and Dad napped again while I cleaned up my emails. Then we worked on my puzzle, which is shaped like the globe, until bedtime. We were in bed by eight, a trend that would continue for the next three weeks.