![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I knew today was going to be a weird one. The summer was nice and quiet, not too many strange people. But at Pearse this morning, a genuine flower-child hippy chick - she can't have been more than 17, and looked like she'd just left Woodstock - complimented me on reading Heinlein, and said he was "far out".
And at Sydney Parade, an English guy - about 40ish - got on the train with two cats on leashes. The cats sat on the seat beside him, and he told the lady sitting opposite all about them. Their names were Patches (a tortoiseshell) and Sugarcube (white).
And at Sydney Parade, an English guy - about 40ish - got on the train with two cats on leashes. The cats sat on the seat beside him, and he told the lady sitting opposite all about them. Their names were Patches (a tortoiseshell) and Sugarcube (white).