Heat by Rob O’Neill

My little barista

Girlie’s got a job. She’s gone, in a blink, from the girl who puts instant coffee in the percolator to barista.

A few weeks ago she did the rounds of the local shops, asking if they had any work for her after school. Mainly this was at a shopping centre called Birkenhead Point, an outlets mall on the water facing Balmain. Two days ago someone from Michelle’s Patisserie called back and she starts tonight.

I wonder if we get the leftovers?

How she’s going to fit this into her schedule of Playstation, homework, sly parties and anti-war protests, I don’t know. She went into town, but missed, the latest schoolkids anti-war march, which turned into a mayhem of random screeching and running around – all in the cause of peace of course.

Mind you, ten days after we bought it, the Girlie is close to clocking The Getaway and the sly parties have died down now that I’m back in the country.

Me and the Girlie are thinking of moving somewhere a bit more funky. The lease expires in a couple of months and Rozelle, just up the road from our place in Drummoyne, has attracted our attention. Rozelle is at the base of the Balmain peninsula facing the city, very close to town yet very villagy.

The prices seem about right and there are some great terraces and cottages. But get this: Pubs in Drummoyne, 2: Pubs in Balmain/Rozelle, 26. That’s a no-contest.

I’m surprised this little item hasn’t received more play over here. It’s unlike the local media to miss a chance to label kiwis bludgers. I guess with detention centres full of Afghans, Pakistanis and so forth New Zealand immigrants don’t seem quite so bad, in a “white Australia” kind of way.

And Winston could be right for a change – it’d be interesting to do a “where are they now” piece in five years' time to see where the several hundred refugees New Zealand accepted have ended up.

Yeah, right! I can talk!