Shopping In Smith Street

I’m waiting out the front of Woollies with Buddy and Bruno while Sam shops. The doorway to Woollies is disgusting by that time of day, assorted rubbish, an empty wine box, two plastic carry bags filled with who knows what, bottles of half drunk soft drink, no doubt pinched from the supermarket, discarded take away coffee cups, what was left of a smash asthma inhaler, an old jacket, some clothing material of undetermined origin and what looked like multiple stains of historic bodily waste, from various sources.

An old woman, in a beanie, and an oversized jumper, comes out of Woollies, she pushes her trolley over to the wall on the other side of the entrance to where I am standing.

I am writing on my phone, so I don’t pay too much attention.

I vaguely hear her saying, “I can help it, I can’t help it, I can’t help it, I can’t help it.”

Finally, I look up from my phone, to see her bent over forwards with her knickers and track suit pants around her thighs pissing up against the wall in the entrance way to Woollies.

She has on a beanie, that is pointy like a dunce’s hat, which makes her look ridiculous in itself, a huge oversized moth-eaten jumper, pale grey track pants, which are far too big for her, and grimy ugg boots. I can see her old cream knickers are grey and lank, against the blue/white skin of her geriatric thighs.

She is a sight.

She had, seemingly, tried to piss into a take away cup, which I hadn’t noticed initially, and when she tries to sit it down on the concrete, she manages to drop it a number of times, finally kicking it in frustration, but it just ricochets back at her when it hits one of the bollards in front of the supermarket doorway.

When Sam comes out, I tell him and the look on his face is priceless as he takes the whole scene in. When we both look over at her we can see her standing there in a puddle of her own piss.

Is that what we all have to look forward to, I think? Some version of that?