Category: People

The commuter and his whiskers

Everyone likes to wake up feeling fresh and full of excitement about what the day could bring.

Unfortunately, the reality of life is that many of us roll out of bed feeling as rumpled as the shirt we should have ironed last night, but didn’t. The same rumpled shirt that leaps onto the dawning day’s roster of tasks, ahead of the relaxed breakfast you’d planned enjoying the harbour views and early morning sunshine from your balcony. 

What I love about these chaotic early morning regimes, that leave calm and peacefulness meditating quietly in your wake, is the ingenious lengths people go to to complete their checklist of ablutions.  

At my bus stop this morning I saw a man shaving; happily ensconced in his thoughts and completely oblivious to the shards of five o’clock shadow he was spraying all over neighbouring commuters. He’d picked a classic tool of the trade – the rotary shaver from what I could tell – and it was making short work of the task at hand. Much to his delight, it seemed.

Sadly, on this occasion, it was a Gillette moment most people would happily avoid, but, for me, brilliant in its simplicity.

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The cowboy and the bench

In a small coastal town, in northern NSW, that long ago surrendered its identity to a parade of homeware and genuine antique stores catering to the tidal flow of tourists escaping sand and sunscreen, a cowboy sat on a bench.

He wore a silver suit with a dagger of red hanging around his neck that clashed politely with purple socks. On his feet, two-tone shoes hailed back to a time when Al Capone patrolled the silver screen. Finishing off the outfit was a white cowboy hat from a distant prairie and silver mirrored sunglasses that perfectly accented his shoulder-length hair.

His handle-bar mustache dripped low, beyond his chin, and his white sleeve cuffs were crisp and standing to attention while a kaleidoscope of jewels glittered on every finger.

No one had noticed, but he hadn’t moved for almost 30 minutes. Even the wind dared not disturb a brittle whisker. His feet were anchored to the pavement and his hands rested calmly on his knees; his right hand poised to take up the pen he’d been furiously scribbling with before he fell into his silent contemplation.

The cowboy showed a commitment to posture and silence, grooming and fashionable flair, that left a smile bubbling on my lips all afternoon.