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On Tuesday my granddaughter took me out for the day. She doesn't need phases: only impulse and a sort of a plan. We drove down the mountain to Oxenford, where we spent a happy hour or two op shopping. She harvested a pile of clothes, spectacular on her slender body, and showing individual taste: slim fitting knitted dresses; a striped dress; a knitted dress she plans to shorten to a top; a plaited wide belt; jeans that she didn't like by the time we got home and passed on to her mother; and a wedding dress and veil, in which she looks stunning. My clothes shopping was less successful, a cardigan with sleeves a mile too long and no shape. However, I collected a supply of spoons and bowls, an owl coffee mug, a square plate and a small red-striped glass bowl. I also sprawled on the floor and trawled through books to find ones suitable for “those Polish twins”.

Then we joined a small queue waiting for the Sushi Train to open, and T bought me lunch. She ordered with enviable knowledge and aplomb. At the end of the meal she stacked our plates neatly, something she always does because she appreciates it so much when customers at the Indian restaurant where she waitresses stack plates for her.

Her navigational skills got us to Nerang for cheap movie day: $5.50 each. En route she regaled me with tales of stabbings, and friends who are too afraid to go there. This third part of my treat left me ambivalent. A film about a group of male strippers headed by Channing Tatum, would not be my usual choice of movie – for me, or my granddaughter. I'd seen a bit of Tatum the night before and couldn't understand why he was so exciting. Quite frankly, I didn't really want to see more of him. However, T kept assuring me he was “hot”, and I'm always keen to understand the thinking of my descendants. Now, I'm almost inclined to agree: at least I can't get his face out of my mind's eye. However, the muscle-flexing, rib-showing and sexy gyrations made me want to giggle, rather than moan with lust or expire with delight in the male body. My favourite shot in the whole movie, believe me or not, was an aerial view of a beach and ocean, two vertical (or were they horizontal?) rectangles, the sand marked by bright patches of beach umbrellas, the sea by the white foam of breakers.

I was delighted that my nearly-sixteen year old grand daughter wanted to take me out for the day, despite intergenerational incomprehension.