Day 6 actual day

On Sunday, after Church, we went and bought a whole lot of stuff from K-mart - the basics that we will need while waiting for our container. Then off to Coles (not Margaret's one - another branch) we went and saw that they have stuff in a special section: Ghost pops, Wine gums, Provita, Pro-Nutro,etc. All the SA stuff you can't normally get over here that easily- at a price of course. But I looked above it and it was listed as Mexican food? Go figure! As we were warned, it does take a while to get used to new brands and shopping takes a while longer. Afterwards, on the way home, I spotted a little shop called Argyle’s Shop and Rentals so I swung into a parking bay in a street nearby. From Friday, when we move into our new unfurnished apartment, we can do without most things, but we need a fridge until our container arrives, so Carmen and I decided to get a small secondhand one in the meantime. So we popped into Argyles and all the appliances were lined up but not a soul in the place, so we went back to the front and on the door there was a notice: ‘If this shop is unattended, please come 2 doors down to number 26.’ Like, huh? Imagine this in SA! Anyway. We walked 2 doors down and entered. Behind an old desk sat Mr Argyle, thousands of papers in piles around the large back office. He was at least 82 years old and had owned the business for over 30 years. We decided on a bar fridge and he slowly,.... excrutiatingly slowly, wrote out the invoice by hand, and advised us solemnly that even if we lost the invoice, he would still honour the 3 month guarantee. He then nodded to himself and disappeared to the back. We stayed where we were, unsure if the deal was concluded or not, but after a minute or two of rummaging through one of the piles he shuffled back over to the desk, collapsed into the chair and began to write out a certificate of guarantee for us, while our frozen food melted away in the car. I told him it wasn’t necessary but he insisted. I didn’t doubt his word that he would honour the guarantee if he was alive. I just thought he would expire before the guarantee. Anyway, certificate safely in hand, he offered to help us to the car by using a tip trolley to take it to the car for us, but I didn’t fancy having to explain away how I as a South African passport holder came to be holding dead Mr Argyle, a venerable Australian citizen, so I lifted up the fridge in my arms and we headed down the road as casually as we could, ignoring the studious non-stares of the pedestrians and hoping that nobody who had witnessed our public trolley spectacle, saw us now.