Buddy and I were sitting out the back of Woollies in the sun, under our favourite tree, there was a nice gently breeze blowing, the occasional bird chirping in the tree, it was quiet and serene, as we waited for Sam to buy some sausages for dinner to go with the mashed potato, the one thing I make with any regularity. (Sam came back with ribs, but that makes no difference to this story)
There is a gnarly tree root on the edge of the garden which makes a lovely seat, Bud sat at my feet, off his lead, his big pink tongue hanging out dripping saliva all over the cobblestones in front of him.
We watched the people come and go.
A woman, who’d parked her car at the end of Hodgson Street, (which is blocked off by the footpath on which we were sitting) or right in front of us, came out and got into her car. She looked a little sweaty, her hair was pulled up on top of her head, with wisps having let go during the day. She started her car and then, clearly, she started to check her phone messages. She checked her phone messages for the longest time, all the time her car’s engine was revving and her air conditioning was switching on and off, on and off, on and off, continuously. (I’d like to say the smell of exhaust fumes wafted by us, as that would build my case, but I can’t really say they did. And she was driving a Volvo so it was probably unlikely)
“Kerchee.”
“Kerchish.”
“Kerchee.”
“Kerchish.”
All the time the car’s engine revved.
“Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
She must have sat there for 10 minutes. Ten minutes! How many messages could you possibly have that need reading at this moment?
What about the planet? The petrol. The carbon dioxide. The world's resources. Give it some thought.
“Kerchee.”
“Kerchish.”
“Kerchee.”
“Kerchish.”
“Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
It nearly drove me mad. Why start your car if you are going to sit there for the rest of your life checking your phone? Of course, by the end of it I was hoping it was the rest of her life, as I was very definitely wishing her dead.
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