Shopping tension

I can smugly say that I had finished my shopping about a week ago and so yesterday when Steve wanted, and I use the term loosely, to go ‘up town’ to finish his, I tagged along and spent some time just enjoying the hustle. Actually I don’t reckon it was nearly as busy as I had expected it to be. Maybe all those suburban centres really have drained off the city customers.

People were dragging their children around and sometimes carrying them. I decided that these people were tourists and just out to see as much of the city as they could in the shortest amount of time, otherwise they would have left their kids at home with Ma or the neighbour or tied to the old  Hills hoist. If there was any other option you wouldn’t be carrying a person who is quite capable of putting one foot in front of the other...surely not. So people with little ones were tourists.

Stress heads in suits...yeh, it was stinking hot, but still they wore the suit, these guys must be newly married and trying to prove they know what their woman wants. No secretary shopping for them. They are hustling along, on a mission, probably have rung ahead to make the transaction smooth and painless and the parcel is small enough to fit in their pocket....jewellery is my guess.

There’s the young ones who are trying to ekk out their cash so that everyone gets a little something. They carry many many bags and are enjoying the triumph of the day. They are wearing shorts and sneakers and clearly mean business, all the while smiling with the cheer of the season – or maybe that’s the smile of a long beery lunch.

There are middle aged women with lists and sensible handbags big enough to hold most of the parcels. They are not ‘dressed up for town’ like my Nanna would have been, but they are more carefully put together. Their eyes dart about working out the next plan of attack and then they are off, letting no one or nothing impede their progress.

And then there were the 3 rather sad Irish Dancers who were busking in the top end of the mall. They had no music. They had no group routine. One of them had very little will to be there. They had a sign saying ‘Please help us get to the Irish Dancing world championships’. They took turns flinging their legs around and occasionally someone put some money- silver coins- into a big old Tupperware bowl they had borrowed out of the back of a cupboard. At one stage a young family put a fiver into the bin and I thought the kids were gonna shut up shop and head off to Maccas just like in the ads, but continue to fling they did. I can only imagine that the competition is being held at Woodridge and they needed train fare cos I can’t see how they are ever ever gonna make one plane fare, let alone 3.

On the hunt for some cherries today and then the shopping is DONE at least until Thursday when the sales start... Yippee!