Six pages of ads for Hardly Normal, four from Domayne furnishings, a total of eight offering adventure travel to the wilds of Thai beachside resorts or river cruising between Amsterdam and Vienna, insights into the life and times of some wannabe starlet, upcoming movie reviews, the astrological charts and a ridiculously obscure, giant crossword. There was bugger-all left of the Sunday paper. Why did I continue to subscribe? Thank God for the Sudoku.
The Sunday puzzle was always rated as ‘diabolical’. For a relatively new Sudoku-ee, that was the challenge, occasionally getting it out, a reward in the form of bragging rights to fellow inmates.
The sun shone across my bunk from two in the afternoon and while the others chose the exercise yard, I stretched out, my favourite Staedtler pen at the ready and two hours to myself! A brief circular inspection identifies the gimme’s – the four or five clues that incentivize the puzzle. OK, gottim’, so now the hard work starts. Bottom right has four numbers in position, five numbers leading up through the next two boxes with an initial suggestion a three goes into the bottom box, top row, centre. There’s a nine blocking the five … ahh. Oh yes, the seven definitely slots in there. And so it went … the afternoon drifting comfortably.
The tinkle of my pen hitting the concrete floor woke me with a start. Sheila and I had been in earnest discussion on the beach at Sorento, our sandy beachhead providing privacy, while we went through a final MO for this evening’s work. It would be easy, the last couple of days confirming nobody in residence, the hourly flicker from an automated, ‘anti-theft’ device in the upstairs toilet, further reassurance that we would have the house to ourselves this evening.
A lobster salad, a deliciously fruity Yarra Valley Pinot Grigio, a wonderfully mature brie and wafers, and three crisp counterfeit $100 notes concluded the public part of our evening. We drove back to the Airbnb, changing into our spandex ‘blacks’, rubber-soled booties and balaclavas. A final run-through, me in through the laundry doggy door, around to the front and disarm the door: 30 seconds. Sheila in through the front door: 45 seconds and into the lounge room, a quick review of the gallery: 75 seconds. McCubbin’s Winter Sunlight; Streeton’s Still glides the stream; Wither’s The Drover: as per our inventory, a wonderful collection, beautiful, valuable and all protected by a separate laser beam alarm system.
A bloody cat had followed me in through the laundry door. It just went ballistic inside the lounge – chasing a moth around the room, jumping from couch to table, from table to bench, back to the couch and then bounced off the wall as I ineffectually swiped at it.
The red laser pinpoint on my sleeve! All hell broke loose as the alarms, and lights, notified the neighbourhood of our presence.
Only 729 afternoons left, maybe less with remission. I resume my consideration of the Sudoku.