There's a small colony of shopping trolleys in the creek running off from the work site near my home. One found itself stranded by one thoughtless Jesmond bogan, so some other obviously kinder spirited samaritan bogan helped it feel at home by submerging 4 of his companions. Community spirit at play. A Telstra techie melts in the heat under the January sun beating the top of his small canvas shelter, inside the upright silver pillar open with the veins of the telecommunications network exposed to the expertise of a pissed off middle aged father of 4 who's had 3 beers at lunch. He won't dare leave the canvas tent overnight though, lest it join the colony of trolleys overnight. Instead he'll replace the silver dome and leave a small, triangular yellow metal frame that will only be shifted up the road to fraudulently block the driveway of the community centre car park. Community spirit is a fickle thing.
Jesmond's community spirit, what little there is, buzzes at the Jeso shops from dawn to dusk. Asian uni students eat at the ready made generic asian restaurant, the Woolies deli staff smoke in groups, all with their high white boots on, and groups of women drink coffee in their ugg boots. He steps out of the main entrance and sees me coming, his leathered face spreads in a smile, and I curse inside. Jesmond Jesus wants to save my soul. He's never told me, but I assume he pissed away his youth, fucked his young adulthood up with drugs and unclaimed kids and now wants redemption. His face is etched with thousands of possibilities, every crease in his haggard mug a wound from a hard lived life. His redemption will be my salvation, and my salvation comes in card form. He's too good natured to say no to when he extends his hand with them. I can't tell him I'm not interested. Instead I collect his bible quote cards (I have 17, 3 more for a complete set! I'm still waiting for a special Jesus insert card, maybe with Jesus signature printed across it in gold foil like the old footy cards) and every time he asks me "what's your name again mate?" and I realise I don't know his at all. He gives me a card and is on his way, the lord must have other work for him today.
The pace doesn't stop at Woolies. The 65 cent wafers and a handful of grapes are all I've come for today, so I grab them and head for the express counter. Kathryn is on the left counter so I take the longer wait, regardless of the fact the 2 people in front of me are clearly violating the express lane creed of 9 items or less. I eavesdrop while I wait and it turns out there's an arvo party going on over on Mordue street and it sounds like a ripper. A bloke's already in the street singing Chisel.
It's my time to be served, Kathryn says hello and I pretend to be a nice guy and wait for her to say that she's noticed me around and wants nothing more than to smoke a huge bowl and have some crazy sex all afternoon, but she just smiles politely and doesn't laugh when I pay by eftpos and ask for $1.30 cash out.
As I walk home Jesmond Jesus is giving small cards to the Telstra techie, who's erecting the small yellow barrier and heading home to finish the drinking he started at lunch. The bloke singing Chisel must have been drawn back into the party or taken off because the street is otherwise empty, and the sound of police sirens rise on the air.
