On fridays, the lovely sharon gets up very early and leaves the house before I am up out of bed. And I am up very early every morning. On Fridays, the lovely sharon merges with the busyness that is St George’s market. She buys fresh vegetables that are tastier and fresher than any of our local megacompanies. She buys fish from a very friendly market were all the staff keep asking her if she is a model. Predictably this makes her flutter her eye lids and she buys more fish.

This morning turned into a disaster of comic proportions. The lovely Sharon arrived at her car and could not find the keys. She searched everywhere. Then, once she had emptied the entire contents of her handbag on the car park floor, the car park attendent began to suspect that something was up. So she handed over all her shopping into his care* and headed back over to the market to begin the search. *everything but her cup of tea. The lovely sharon is very paranoid about leaving any beverage in the care of a stranger in case they spike it with something. As if some evil car park attendant is waiting for that day when somebody askes them to look after their tea.

Back at the market , the lovely sharon recruits the vegetable stall staff to begin the search to help this damsel in distress. Then the deli stall. Then the fish stall. Then the cafe (the origin of the tea). Once all the stalls were exhausted, she approached the office. At this point the reality of her situation was hitting her, she was stranded and going to be very late for work. As they began to make calls for the keys over the speaker system, the lovely sharon continued to repeat the ritual of checking her hand bag as she had done over 100 times already. As if the keys would magically appear in a bag which has been emptied of all contents several times. But, what is this! She felt a ‘keys’ shaped object somewhere in the lining.

It is the nature of women’s handbags that they do not reflect functionality. They either have no pockets at all or they have so many that the geek within me would create a database to keep track of the contents. It was deep within the bowels of a multi pocketed bag that the lovely sharon discovered the source of the ‘keys’ shaped object. Girly gigglyness and embarrassment ensued.

Someone who might have some pride might have lied, or at least avoided the answers to the awkward questions. Not the lovely sharon. She proudly stomped through the market stall declaring, “I found my keys”, “they were in my handbag”. Has she no shame? Or is she simply cute?