During yesterday's child-free morning, I set off to find a suitable cafe in town in which to practice my people-watching. But at 9.30 in the morning there didn't seem an awful lot of coffee-drinking going on, and the streets were bereft of potential story characters.
In the meantime I nearly bought 2 pairs of flat-heeled, knee high boots. There are winter sales on everywhere, you see, and I've been feeling boot-desire since about May. Never mind that, under the ubiquitous mummy-wear jeans I'm always in, you can't tell whether I'm wearing knee-high boots or socks and roman sandals. I just wanted some, and now I had time to look for them.
What stopped me from actually purchasing a pair, was the well-known fact that one should always buy shoes late in the day, as this allows for a bit of swelling in one's feet. So I asked to put them on hold, and returned to my search for a well-peopled cafe.
Finally I walked into a trendy place at the end of the street which is apparently a popular student hang-out. I've no idea why anyone would name an eaterie after Fidel Castro, but the odd name certainly hadn't put off the clientele. It was packed. The more recent arrivals were trying to order lattes and espressos while pressed into the tiny corridor in front of the counter, preventing the early birds from sauntering stylishly between the rear seating area and the front bit where all the exhibition photos were hanging.
But what a place for discretely observing the in-crowds! The girl at the next table visually screamed "art student", from the squeaky clean dreads to the op-shop clothes, to the designer boots which made a lie of her image as a poor but creative free-spirit.
Actually, she wasn't wearing designer boots. My mind had simply wandered back to those shoe store sales..