As a special Saturday morning treat it was my absolute joy to witness a frail little old lady going ballistic in the middle of a crowded department store. Angry that a garden furniture display had been replaced with Christmas decorations, she subjected a young manager to a sensational string of expletives. When the man in question attempted to pacify her with, ‘It’s winter madam. We don’t have much call for gardening,’ she responded with, ‘I’m eighty-one. I may not be alive come the spring.’
For a moment there I experienced a mini-epiphany - something about perspective and fate…
… ‘This place is shit,’ the old woman howled and the moment was lost!
What does this have to do with ‘The Melting Pot’ ? Not a lot really, but stretching the narrative somewhat - perspective is a bizarre thing don’t you think? (stay with me people), and my first foray into the published word seems to be evoking a hot or cold response. Readers seem to either love it or find it not to their taste. On reflection I’m pretty happy with that.
I was talking to a work-colleague last week. He pointed over to a lady at the other side of the office and said, ‘That woman absolutely hates me.’
‘Better than her not knowing who you are,’ I replied.
