My theme today was going to be madness and why people say I’m barmy. (Mad, crazy, daft as a brush…) However, if you’ve read any posts before, you’ll know why people think I’m mad, so I needn’t go into any more detail. I realised, however, that what was really occupying my mind was how we behave in public. It’s all about perception and it came forcibly to mind recently when the loved one and I were in a bar somewhere. It doesn’t matter where because it is a not uncommon occurrence but one of the joys of doing it is people watching. At some point over the years we have realised that it is a two way thing. When you are sitting doing it, you are the audience; once you get up to leave, you are the show.
He and I are pretty acerbic in our usually fairly quiet comments and, having been together a long time now, we tend to notice and be amused by the same things. Indecision is one that keeps us entertained – other people’s, obviously, not our own. People at market stalls havey quaveying between two virtually identical tomatoes; others, sitting at a cafe table for ten minutes looking at a drinks menu and then being taken by surprise when a waiter comes and asks what they would like to order; and yet more sad souls hopping from foot to foot, deciding whether to take the plunge into a less than welcoming sea/swimming pool.
Other people’s dress sense is a good source of entertainment too. Being what the loved one calls fashion acorns ourselves, we feel well qualified to comment and lord knows the populace gives us plenty of scope. As I am a pretty hefty sort of female (I see myself as having an equator rather than a waistline), I wear loose fitting clothes to hide/disguise the minor (Ha!) imperfections. Seeing big women in small clothes, therefore, causes me untold amusement. The most frequent comments being “Pity they didn’t have it in her size” and “Putting lycra to the test there…” Large bosoms in small tops also cause comment on the lines of fear of spillage.
Men in socks and sandals/shorts fall similarly under our critical gaze, as do low waistlines showing bum crack. Sorry, I wish I knew a better description but all the euphemisms are, if anything, even worse. In Malia once, we actually had to go home early because we were laughing so much. It was late evening; we were sitting in a streetside bar (!) and it was obviously time for the night clubbers to start their evening. From various apartment buildings and hotels came a stream of, I’m sorry to say, mainly women going out on the town. There were three common themes – too tight, too short, too old to be wearing it. In addition, many of them had clearly been drinking already and were a little unsteady on their feet. Add this to cobbled streets and unaccustomed high heels and the recipe for disaster was guaranteed. It made you proud to be British. (The majority of them were, I’m afraid, Brits.)
Going back to my original thoughts on public behaviour… We were sitting waiting for drinks to be served when we noticed a couple sitting nearby, clearly at odds with each other. They were slouched in lounge chairs, each with a whisky and coke to hand. He was mouthing rude words, a little slurred, and a lot vulgar. She turned, pointing a finger, swaying slightly and yelled into his face something virtually indistinguishable but certainly discouraging further conversation. “But I do love yer,” he yelled, “even if you are fat.” (She wasn’t. Not slender, but not fat.) This lit the blue touch paper. You must insert words beginning with F at regular intervals throughout the next bit, I’m afraid.
“Fat? Call me … fat do yer? Love me? Yeh, when you go off with yer … fancy piece and … leave me running the … pub. Yer can stuff yer … self..” and she pushed him in the chest and collapsed back into her seat, taking another slug as she did so. He leaned forward in his chair, glass in hand, trying, with little success to appease her. We headed for our room to bathe and change for the evening, glad to escape.
At dinner in the hotel that night, we were amazed and appalled to see the same couple waiting at a self service buffet to select their food. Still in the same football shirt and shorts, he could barely stand. Still in the same strapless top, giving gravity a good run for its money, she was flushed and breathless. And, to keep themselves occupied, or maybe to keep themselves upright, they were locked in a passionate embrace, tongues akimbo, making slurping noises that echoed across the room. (Perhaps they were sharing a prawn, who knows?) We averted our eyes and sat as far away as possible. Some people watching is, as they say, contra indicative to the digestive system.
And my point? Why do it in public? Drink? Yup, not a problem, although they had probably had a couple too many. Argue/dispute? It happens to all of us at times. Kiss and make up? Lovely. In public? Nooooo!
Oh dear, is it me? Is it my age? I don’t want to disapprove, I enjoy being amused by people watching. Mildly amusing is fine, slapstick comedy is not to my taste and soap opera, no, no, no. I realise as I write that the common factor here is drink. I don’t disapprove of it, dammit, I do it myself. Why don’t people know when to stop? In the dim and distant past I have been known to over indulge but I am cursed with a very clear memory of the night before and it only took one or two episodes of terminal embarrassment in my late teens/early twenties to teach me the salient lesson.
You will wonder, therefore, what in the world prompted me, when shopping with my daughter one evening recently, not only to try on Christmas novelty headgear, but to allow her to take photos of me wearing them. So far, she has refrained from putting them on FB but I suspect it is only a matter of time. In mitigation, I can only say that a: the store was not busy and b: she needed cheering up. However, when she appeared from the next aisle with her head apparently stuffed up the rear end of a turkey – who would BUY a hat like that? – I called a halt, returned to the adult world and went in search of tea. Any people watchers would have been delighted.
Well, that’s the rant for this week.
What have I actually been doing? A lot of drawing. I’ve done over half of the swap tiles now, as you can see from the pictures, and am on track to have them complete and ready to send before we go away in just over a week. I’ve made Christmas decorations for the stitch and bitch girls and they are ready for when I see them next. And now I eagerly await the Diva Challenge. I enjoyed the last one a lot so I’m looking forward to what she comes up with next.
And today’s guest Challenger is Dillip Patel, who asks us to appreciate trees in our drawings.
So, let us create Zentangle Forests with variety of trees coming
out from each one of you. There could be no better thanks giving
process towards Nature.
A slight cheat here, as I drew an olive tree not long ago, not tangled, just a sketch. And a little Narwal Christmas tree too.
‘Bye for now, World, I’m sorry if I bored you but remember, you don’t have to read it, you can always cut straight to the pictures.