“Ever visit a place because of a book you read?”
“Yeah.”
“Where d’ya go?”
“Copenhagen. And it was as beautiful as I imagined it would be.”
“Oooooh! What book led you there?”
“The Diary of Anne Frank.”
Reading broadens the mind…
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Author Archives: MG McShane
After Christmas at the airport…
People watching at the airport while I wait for a pal to arrive.
Tearful family reunions.
Romantic kisses between lovers.
Guys nervously waiting at the barrier with bouquets of flowers.
And children vigorously wiping grandparents’ kisses from their faces.
Priceless.
Legal Eagles…
“Big case coming up.”
“What’s it about?”
“Can’t say. But what I will say is this – up to my *moobs* in prep work.”
<Beavis and Butthead guffaws>
“Where is it?”
“Reckon it’s the High Court. Not sure if we’re before a judge or judges.”
“When will you know?”
“On the day probably. Leads to a question though.”
“What question?”
“What’s the plural of judge? Judge or judges?”
<Say ‘No. I think you’ll find the plural of “judge” is Jedi’ I scream inside my head. Jedi. Jedi. Jedi!!!>
“Think it’s ‘judge’.”
<Oh, sweet Lord…!>
Unexpected item in the Bagging Area…
I’m checking out in the supermarket – as you do – and get one of those chatty gals who likes to comment on *everything* I’m buying. After years of this, I’m used to it and answer the deluge of questions which are now cascading.
She picks up one item and says “They look nice. Are they new?”
“Eh…yes”, I answer.
“Not sure I’d like them. Not a great fan of herbal tea myself.”
“Neither am I”, I respond, wondering what she will say next.
“Do they taste nice?” she asks and I answer that I don’t know.
“Good Lord!” says she as she drops the item abruptly on the conveyor belt, her cheeks now glowing red.
Not knowing what to say, I mutter “Eh…pretty box.”
“Indeed”, says she as I take the box of sanitary towels and pack them in with the rest of my shopping…
Dealing with an -ex
Breaking the silence on tonight’s commute…
“Jaysus!” she shrieked after looking at her phone.
“What’s wrong?”
“Text from the ex.”
“What did he say?”
“Read it.”
“F**k – you – and – your – belly. F**k – you – and – your – belly – of – bellies!”
“What the hell did you say to him?”
“Here. Read it.”
“Are – you – getting – the – kids – runners – for – Christmas?”
Ah yes! That makes sense…
“Is that Michael over there?”
“Where?”
“Over there beside the tree?”
“I don’t know.”
“Haven’t seen him in an age. I wonder if it’s him.”
“You’ll have to go over and see.”
“Why?”
“Neither of you are wearing your glasses so you’ll never be able to recognise him from here.”
“Huh?”
“I’m just trying to matter”
June Carter used respond “I’m just trying to matter” when asked how she was doing. Tonight, I received a very unexpected email which told me I’d mattered to someone.
During the summer, I crossed paths with a lovely young couple. They were in a rut and couldn’t see a way forward. By complete fluke, I’d finished a project and had information at hand that could help. I listened. They chatted. I gave them the relevant information. We said our goodbyes.
I marvelled at the randomness of the encounter and how sometimes we are meant to cross someone’s path. A month earlier and I would not have had that information.
They emailed to tell me how things turned out and it was all such positive news. I am so delighted for them. They really do deserve good luck.
Autumn 2015
The ‘Special Ones’ walk among us…
And today’s contenders for the Darwin Awards are…
The *seven* people who walked behind my car while I was reversing…
and
The woman who hesitated and yet still walked into the parking space just at the *exact* minute I was driving in…
Special Recognition Award goes to the Little Boy Racer who decided to ignore the fact my car was stopped, with my hazard lights flashing brightly, and accelerated to overtake me, narrowly avoiding ploughing into the car stalled lengthways across the road…
Ah, children…
“Coming to town on Saturday?”
“Nope.”
“Huh? I’m driving in. Come with us.”
“No babysitter.”
“I thought you’d a gang of them to choose from.”
“Oh, we had. And now we have none.”
“How did that happen?”
“The ‘Animal Whisperer’ saw each and every one of them off.”
“Huh?”
“We didn’t know what was going on. The missus pays them well. Often leaves them dinner even. They all seemed fine and then I’d phone and they were busy. When it got to the last one, I wasn’t letting it go. Had to know why.”
“So why?”
“Poor girl stuttered out her reason. I think she thought I’d be angry with her. I was angry but not with her. With my darling 3 year old.”
“And???”
“No sooner would we be out the door than herself would throw a fit and become totally catastrophic.”
“Ah, the poor pet!”
“Poor pet, me arse. She had them looking for her pet lizard. Inside and outside.”
“Why did the lizard keep going missing?”
“There is NO lizard!”
“Huh?”
“She got to stay up late and the babysitter was in such a tiss when she couldn’t find the lizard. Afraid to come back and find out what happened to it.”
“So what now?”
“Stern words to herself and a lot of nights in for the foreseeable.”
Communing with nature…
For years, I have put bread and nuts out for the birds. Not any more. For the past two weeks, I have a seagull coming to the window and banging on it to be fed. The Apres 
Teen thought I was making it up until she witnessed it first-hand. Her reaction? “Mum, you have created a monster. Would serve you right if it breaks through the glass, comes into the room and pecks at you!”
Now me and that bird – we play a game of tag. It knocks and I run it off. If I don’t, it keeps banging on the glass.
One morning, I heard it knocking downstairs. Deciding to ignore it, I fell back to sleep. And then there was more knocking but this time it sounded as if it was on my bedroom door. Freaked that the Apres Teen’s prophecy had come true, I got up to investigate. More knocking. This time at the window of my *first floor* bedroom. Pulled back the blind expecting to see that damn seagull again but no, it was a Magpie taking up the charge!
Hitchcock would be loving this!
———————
Days later…
Pottering around upstairs while the Apres Teen eats brunch lounging on one of our many couches. Next I hear… “STOP!” “Go away!” “No, I am not feeding you !!!” “I am NOT my mother!”
And the seagull still keeps tapping!
I hadn’t seen it in days so it obviously thinks the AP is a safer bet. “Film it!” roars me down the stairs. “I. WILL. NOT!” comes the reply. “That will only encourage the fecker!”
Thoughts of a Middle Aged Teen 