Quick, come here!’ Nina ran into the living room of her inner-city Melbourne home, expecting to find Hilary in danger, or more worryingly, her niece in danger. Instead, both Hilary and her ten-year-old daughter, Lucy, were sitting in front of the television set. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Hilary pointed at the TV set. ‘Quick. Look. That woman there.’ Nina looked. It was a children’s TV program; all technicolour and cheery voices, with the presenter, a thin, smiling, red-haired woman in her early thirties dividing her time between speaking directly to camera or to a blue-haired sock puppet on her right hand. ‘That’s right, Bobbie!’ she was saying in a chirpy English accent. ‘Today is orange day! So let’s think of all the orange things we can. What’s that, Bobbie?’ She leaned down and pressed her ear close to the sock puppet’s sewn-on mouth. ‘That’s right! Oranges are orange! And we know a song about that, don’t we?’ ‘Thanks, Hilary,’ Nina said.
What do You think about At Home With The Templetons?
