A moving car still gathers some moss

"Wash the car!" It was a command. "The paint will start to peel." Well who was I to argue? Apparently moss shouldn't start growing around the brand badges...

And so I started. I gathered my bucket and sponge. The strange blue cleaning stuff and the hose. I rinsed it all down, jet streamed the moss off, and got to work with the overfrothed strange blue liquid. Slowly I remembered that the car was actually white, not a browny greeny colour, and the paint sang to be clean again. (It wasn't actually turning brown. But there was moss.) A couple wandered along the road, and stopped to say hello. Pippin made friends with them, shmoozing around their legs, and they asked me if I was local. Of course, I could have been dressed in my trackies, uggs and daggy jumper, washing a stranger's car in a foreign city. They were taking a look at an empty block down the road, considering moving down from Sydney - Sydney Refugees as we call them. I tried to be helpful, answering questions about the weather, life, travel and general being in Hobart.

When Mum came home I told her about them. "Moving down from Sydney, she hates the heat there in summer." Mum's ears prick up. "He was American, but quite an Ameristralian accent, she had a very Sydney accent." Mum starts to fossick through her emails. "Probably 50s, wearing downies, he had glasses." She looks triumphantly up from her emails. "What?" "I think I'm having dinner with them tonight. Work dinner with a couple thinking about moving down here, he's American, she's Australian and hates the heat - see it says that here in the email!" "Suss it out" I command. "I most certainly will, I'll just drop it casually into conversation."

Two hours later I get a text. One word. "Yes!"

Tasmania is renowned for its low degree of separation. If you ask one of us "So, do you know my uncle John?" the answer will probably be yes. But this was beyond that. Last year I texted Mum from Italy asking "Do you know this person? I'm with her niece, the name sounds familiar." and received the response "Yes! I'm having dinner with her tomorrow!" But this one? I think it's beyond even the usual connections.

And so this mediocre shot that tried to be a pretentious photo of water off a car (foiled by a lack of filters) contains so much more than just the corner of a shiny clean car. It has the essence of Tasmania, that friendly connection factor that makes this place claustrophobic yet also beautiful.