Note: this piece was posted to Facebook on 24 April 2021.
Even when retired and without a standard working week, Saturday mornings are still special. Today was no exception. The sun was warm, the sky blue and the autumn leaves motionless.
People at the shops moved comfortably from coffee with a friend to the weekend newspapers. Some in scarves, others still in shorts as if refusing to accept the change of seasons.
As I joined the modest throng it felt like a time to exchange meaningless niceties with strangers. “It’s beautiful isn’t it!” For human connection. “Isn’t it gorgeous!” For familiarity. “Have a good day!”
The barista in the sandwich shop – always cheerful, speedy – took my order: for some reason, a small cappuccino rather than my usual flat white – and I moved seamlessly to the newspaper shop next door.
The proprietorial couple, reliable as ever, were instantly respectful and polite, like head waiters in a fine dining establishment.
With the pink credit card having done what is expected of it, I returned to the sandwich shop to pick up the coffee. Then on and around the corner to the grocery store for a Three Mills crusty white loaf. I thought to playfully remind the woman in front of me “Not to pinch all the good stuff!” But resisted.
Waiting in the properly spaced queue to pay, a quick rehearsal of what was required to make my perfect Saturday morning: newspapers, tick; coffee, tick; fresh crusty bread: in hand.
My turn. $10.50. On a card, a pink card.
“Payment declined. Insufficient funds.”
Paradise postponed.