A Wednesday' s Walk.

Unexpected sights and memories.

Time has sprouted wings. Today was bin collection day and better than any calendar it highlights another month flitted away. Taking the heavily loaded garbage bin down the driveway to the predestined collection spot ( even putting the handles in the right way ) made it seem like only yesterday that I placed the last one. A month can feel as long as an eternity but also as short as a flick of the wrist.

It being Wednesday meant a walk with the gals. We start earlier now and at a quarter to seven I left to head to the fire station which is about five hundred meters down the road. Along the walk there I saw a man going to his postbox and I don't know who was more surprised...him or I? Clearly he didn't expect anyone to be afoot as he was sporting the strangest pair of pyjamas indeed. It took all my might not to stare but only to guffaw a greeting.

The donkey residing at the back of one of the houses was braying quite forcefully, a selection of dog toys were littered along the street and an open window made me be fleetingly privy to someone's mobile soliloquy. The illusion of privacy has fooled many a mobile user.

Why do we tend to shout so loudly whilst answering these darn phones? An eon of working in a hair salon has cured me of any thoughts of privacy. Sound waves carry and carry the sound of secrets to many an open albeit unwilling ear.

Discussing private affairs in a public place should be a no-go; contrary to popular belief, sitting having your hair blow waved does not mask any tidbits you share with your stylist and believe me, people do. A stylist's chair seems to morph into a confessional. Sitting at the reception desk I could always tell if salacious tidbits were told as the stylist would quickly switch off the hairdryer and lean closer to the client's ear for more privacy.

Ah, the good old days of working at The Salon. Never dull, never the same and and a great education...

Biggi