story 5.3

He cheerfully kicked his heels against his chair.

His mum was very nice this morning. His dad was sleepy. Brisbane was turning out very nice.

It had been an eventful evening the previous night, what with meeting his cousins again. And he had been so tired! but now he was rarin' to go again!

Mum was peculiarly pleased with the breakfast she had prepared for him. Atilla couldn't understand why, but he was willing to give it a go for her sake.

He had stared at the yellow-cubed hashings upturned so-called temptingly on his plate. He used his forefinger and thumb to explore them.

"Mmmm, yummy mango," Mum mimed the eating of the fruit. Presumably he was supposed to join in her appreciation. Or vice versa?

"Yes," he disagreed politely. He ate the marmite fingers which had been provided as a staple side option. Occasionally he would squidge a yellow cube.

Mother made no further comment, practically ignoring him as she looked at the horizon past the balcony, smiling as she picked at the mango on her plate.

Atilla noticed a flicker of motion just to the left side of his field of vision.

"It's Cousin Qwerty!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Do you like mango?"

"Hello Atilla," Cousin Qwerty greeted him. "Yes I like mangos. Amy loves them even more."

"Let me share mine with you!" Atilla said generously.

Mum grinned.

"Dad!" Atilla spotted his paternal unit through the glass wall alongside the balcony.

Dad waved, and entered the balcony scene. He yawned. "There's no escaping past you, young sir." He helped himself to a marmite finger.

"You should have some mango. Mother made it especially," Atilla said reproachfully.

Mum grinned soppily at Dad. Atilla carefully ignored it.

The day had started now that Cousin Qwerty was here!

story 5.2

"Brisbane Brisbane!" Atilla yodelled.

The flight was lots of fun. He was given lollies and toys and a puppet cow! Yvonne the cow, named after Yvonne the cow.

On arrival at BNE and conveyencing through the building, mother had helped him strip down to his t-shirt and shorts. He was barefoot! This adventure was beginning very well, from his point of view.

Now they were travelling in a taxi under the starlit streetlight-lit Brisbane evening.

"What a beautiful blue bridge," mother admired the blue-lit bridge overarching the Brisbane river.

Atilla grizzled. He was tired and sleepy and he couldn't relax in the humid heat of the Brisbane spring evening. "Brisbane," he grumped.

"Just a few minutes more," father said.

"Yes, just a few more minutes," mother encouraged Atilla's stamina. "You're holding up very well. We'll see Auntie M- and Cousin Qwerty and Cousin Amy and Uncle B-."

Atilla yawned.

story 5.1

Little Atilla was quite excited. "Brisbane Brisbane Bris-bane!" He jumped and hopped in circles, flapping his arms; he couldn't contain himself.

Uncle Fox drove them all to the airport and waved 'good bye'. They arrived early "to avoid the crowd" said Mum, which didn't explain to Atilla why she dragged them up and down the airport to look for The Spinnaker Lounge that wsn't there.

Dad praised Atilla "well done" as the family was speeded to the front of the Departure queue. This adventure was fast. And then it slowed.

Everybody was bunched up and waiting on seats at a Gate. Atilla climbed onto his seat and jumped down, repeating this activity several more times.

"Brisbane!"

A melodic female voice was on the speaker, then people rushed to queue. There were a scattering of babies ahead of them.

Persistently they shuffled forward. And then they were off! shuffling and striding down a narrow hallway.

At the airport! To an aeroplane!

story 4.5

"Have a great time in Brisbane." She waved 'goodbye' to the familiar-looking kid.

"Yup. Brisbane!"

Bobbi continued her pace past the Chinese & European food takeaways. She enjoyed these random walks and encounters. It had become a lovely sunny day, just perfect for a picnic.

With a few coins in her pocket, her time to call her own, other people at work, why! this was a wonderful day that allowed her to run about and shout, "Freeeeedommm!"

Even the kids were at school (apart from the kid she met) (maybe he needed to be at school too?) those who were too young to partake of formal schooling were fenced behind tall railings, pushing wheelbarrows and pulling hoes, called into class by the sound of a bell.

She revelled and shivered ecstatically at the thought of the potential in her day. She walked onwards, not knowing where she was heading to or what she would see.

Bobbi hoped she would see oliphaunts and kauri, rosellas and olive trees, pukekos and rimu.

Right now all she saw were flags and pennants, "For Sale" signs and "Sold", cats and dogs.

In any case, tonight she would return to her holiday home, safe and sound, ready for another adventure tomorrow.

story 4.4

Bobbi admired his confidence. She said so.

"Say, kid, I admire your confidence."

He made a graceful bow. "Thank you."

"I do hope I don't become ill," he added.

"Yes, that would suck majorly," Bobbi agreed. "You would have to stay in bed and can't go out."

"That's what happenned to me one time," the boy said with surprise. "Did it happen to you?"

"Of course. It's a well known symptom and correlation."

"Well," said he, "I shall be less surprised in future."

"Yup," said Bobbi, "we learn something new everyday."

"So very true," her acquaintance sympathised. "Did you know you're not supposed to talk to strangers?"

Bobbi raised her brows in astonishment. "I'm not?"

"Nope," he averred.

"Why?"

He paused. "That's a poser," he agreed. His eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful frown. "I shall ask my mother when I see her," he announced.

"When will you see her?"

"When she's finished in the dairy." He pointed through the shop doorway. "She needed more milk, and I wanted to go to the playground."

"Hey, I saw that playground. It's really brilliant!"

"Yes, I think so too! I'll miss it when I'm in Brisbane," he said. "Brisbane Brisbane Bris-bane!" he roared.

"Nah, I bet you'll have so much fun with your cousins, you won't have time for playgrounds."

He beamed. "Brisbane!"

story 4.3

Bobbi paid more attention to the kid in front of her.

"You look familiar. Where have we met?" she asked the young squirt.

"You may remember me from such encounters as by my letterbox," he reminded her.

"Your letterbox?"

"Yes, you helped me by giving me the mail. You said you wanted to sleep."

"Oh yea that's right. Glad I could help."

"Thank you for that. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes I did. Amazing what one can do with a nice smooth bed."

He nodded earnestly. "I agree. Lumpy beds are very hard. As it is, I have difficulty sleeping longer than thirty minutes at a stretch."

Bobbi raised an eyebrow skeptically. "That would be very tough."

The kid sighed. "Yes, it's a harsh life. But there you go."

"Where do you go?"

"We're planning to go visit my cousins!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"That's an adventure in the planning," she said.

"Maybe. I'm very excited. Brisbane Brisbane Bris-bane!" he chanted. He jumped about. "Brisbane Brisbane Bris-bane!" He pumped his fists in the air. "Brisbane!" he roared.

"I hesitate to mention," Bobbi began, "but do you think you will be able to sleep on your trip?"

"Huh?"

"Well...what with your having difficulties sleeping for longer than thirty minutes in a go..."

"Ah. I don't know anything about that." He paused thoughtfully. "We'll deal with it when it happens!" he declaimed.

story 4.2

The postcard was carefully addressed to Bob Oshawat, c/- her hometown, Route 1. It was he who had suggested that she venture outside of her territory.

I'm having very good adventure. I'm so glad I answered the advertisement for cheap accommodation. I'm so lucky my room has a magic wardrobe. I'm so glad this world doesn't have any snow.

Bobbi shivered reflexively. Her journey encompassing the avalanches still chilled her to the bone. She banished the memories from her present.

I wonder what I can give Bob as a souvenir? Some things don't travel well. She mused darkly about samosas. She sighed. It was a shame. It was truly a magnificent samosa. Maybe some other sort of kitsch? Manuka flowers?





The postbox was somewhat taller than she preferred. However she was prepared. Crampons on, rope slung, she clawed vertically to the postslot and inserted the purpose for which she came. Now she free-styled down to the pavement, successfully.

Bobbi made a pirouette, and finished with a right-handed upstretched 'V' sign. "Oh yeah!" she crowed.

"Congratulations," a familiar voice politely congratulated her.