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Yesterday Sandra and I did something we don't do often enough: we went to the Orange Grove Farmers' Markets, which are held in the school grounds opposite her house every Saturday morning. This is in the suburb of Lilyfield, which is between Leichhardt, also known locally as dykeheart, and Rozelle, which, the last census revealed, has the highest concentration of never-marrried women in Sydney. As you can imagine, we feel quite comfortable there. It feels like our place. The market has quite a bit of stuff that you can't easily get elsewhere, like hemp clothing (no yarn yet, unfortunately), organic food of various kinds, healthy-looking native plants, wonderful sourdough bread and other fresh baked goods. Elderflower cordial - which is terribly expensive, but one of the most refreshing things I have ever drunk. Chilli and lemon marmalade. And it's right on her doorstep. It is, slowly, becoming just another weekend market, like so many around Sydney, with secondhand clothes, imported floor rugs, and all manner of imported tat - sweat-shop-produced beaded bags from Asia are the latest addition we noticed. But the presence of the produce grown by small-holders and the organic food in quantity will mean that it will retain a special quality, I think. The downside (and there always is one!) is that you can't get a car park for miles around her house on a Saturday deep discount broker orning. Which means we have got into the habit to staying at my place on Friday nights.

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