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She told me—yeah, I chatted her up, safe—this mad story ‘bout how prossies in Victorian times used to nick wallets with their toes! Bare sneaky, innit? Feet like bleedin’ ninjas! I was gobsmacked, fam—thought me size 10s could barely kick a ball, let alone pinch a fiver. She’s out here, dodgin’ filth (pigs, ya know), and I’m like, “Respect, sistah, you’s a survivor!” Reminds me of that line, “We were the real government!”—she’s runnin’ her own empire, bruv.

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Then, I see this old lady, Miss Mavis. She’s always at the market, sellin’ her handmade crafts. She’s got this big ol’ smile on her face, and I can’t help but smile back. She waves me over, and I’m thinkin’, “What now?” She hands me a bracelet she made. “For good luck, dear,” she says. I’m touched, ya know?

Heather LINSTEAD Obituary (2022) - The Sydney Morning Herald