If you want to meet the weird and wacky of your neighbourhood ride a bus into town. Or visit the second hand store.
I was at Gungahlin Vinnies last week when two 'chavs' strut into the shop. I guess 'booners' would be the local term. They were boys in their late teens, perhaps - the kind who sway their hips and bop along to some internal, shared rhythm while pacing like cockerels down the street. They were dressed in jeans and white sneakers and scruffy tees. The lesser groomed of the pair had his dark hair shaved into a number one crew cut with a puffy piece of yellow woolly hair sticking out the back of his head like a... no that's too crude for this 'family' blog.
Anyway, he rifled through the second hand suits and, within two minutes, had pulled off a black suit jacket. His mate pulled cash out of his pants and slapped it upon the counter. I saw the penis head bop out of the shop happy as Larry - the suit jacket was four sizes too large for him, emphasising his own narrow shoulders. The jeans combo looked ridiculous.
I placed my own purchase upon the counter and followed the gaze of the grandmother who was serving. She looked incredulous, and relieved, until the boys had escaped out of sight, late for some important date.
"Not the most appropriate attire for a job interview," she mused.
I shrugged. "Depends on the job, I guess."
***
Bridget Jones' diary, also found at the Gunge, had been bookmarked with an old receipt. Its former owner purchased a box of Levlen ED from Charnwood Pharmacy. I had to laugh - how Bridget Jones is that?
***
From Yass Vinnies I found a book by Joe Bennett - the very funny columnist who has written for The Christchurch Press throughout my formative years. I was very happy to pick up one of his books second hand. And very amused to get home and realise that its previous owner had kindly 'censored' the profanities out.
The censorship only increases my enjoyment, especially as the censoring has been attempted in totally transparent graphite pencil. Someone, in the unmistakeable cursive writing of an elderly person, has gone to the extraordinary length of replacing 'piss off' with 'please leave' and crossing out all the f words. Also 'dog in dung'.
Really, the crossings out might as well highlight the good bits:
'I recall the chemical toilet in the family caravan, the ferocious blue liquid that went into it, and how the bowl filled gradually over a week until turds floated in perilous proximity to the rim, like half submerged seals.'
I laughed hysterically at this, not only because the emboldened bit had been angrily scribbled out, but because I'm wondering what this prudish reader did after turning the page to read of the time Bennett got drunk and pissed inside a cupboard full of cricket bats. That bit, strangely, was not crossed out.
Anyway, thank you to the prude for finally giving up and donating this great book to the second hand shop. 'Musn't Grumble' is now in the hands of a very appreciative reader of comic travel writing!
