Sunday morning at a Trash and Treasure market is not a place you will normally find me.

I’m usually practicing my ‘contemplation meditation’ (sleeping).

But last Sunday I decided to go to the Trash and Treasure market and take some photos.

After several tours of the car park I eventually found a spot under a tree, near a fence. I was one of the lucky ones. There were other poor souls in perpetual drive mode desperately seeking probably the only real treasure at the market – a parking spot.

I systematically walked up and down each aisle, cluttered with cars, sellers, and narrowly dodging kids, adults -  all looking  for a bargain that would justify a trip to this open aired display of trash and treasure.

I took photos of some of the sellers who looked like they wanted to be somewhere else.

But the fellow in this photo was different.

He was laughing and his friendly banter ‘one dollar, one dollar, jut for you’ attracted people towards his goods which were displayed on a blanket on the ground in front of his van.

I raised my camera and he spotted me and yelled, ‘yes, take my picture, take my picture’.

I quickly took his picture and waved in acknowledgement.

He grinned and waved back.

For me that interaction was the real treasure at the Trash and Treasure market.

Why do they do it?

Design supermarket carparks so small that you need a can opener to pry open enough space to park your car.

Do the designers own a car? I’m sure if they did they would design a space large enough so you can open your car door without destroying the car parked next to you.

It would certainly stop the temptation to use the car door window as an escape hatch.

Now I know how sardines feel. Trapped in a confined space, ‘eyes wide opened shut’, lying very still in case they disturb the other sardines.

So come on you designers of carparks. Design a carpark where there is enough room to park comfortably.

Or at the very least  provide me with a free can opener.

Well, I’ve finally taken off the training wheels and created my first solo flash presentation.

Sue helped me with Night On The Town and The Bridge but this is my own baby.

The 2010 National Junior Classic was played in June and it’s the first  tournament I have attended since I stopped coaching junior basketball over 20 years ago.

I went along to  test my SLR 50D Canon, without a flash,  using only the manual control and for the opportunity to take basketball photos .

As I stepped into the stadium for the first game I felt like I was transported back in time to my coaching days and went into a coaching mindset. That lasted only a few seconds. It’s much easier being a grandstand coach these days.

I hope you enjoy this 3 minute flash presentation – 2010 National Junior Classic.

Some salespeople should be put in storage and never be allowed to serve customers.

The other day I was served by a salesperson who looked like he was at a wake.

I felt like leaving my condolences and exit without disturbing his misery.

I wish these poor creatures would make an effort and just smile.

It would make such a difference  to me. To be greeted by a person who has a pulse and a genuine willingness to serve and help a customer.

So the next time you see me enter your store, please, smile, it won’t crack your jaw.

Sue and I were facilitating a community forum recently.

Swings and a Slide

Over 100 people of all ages were there to talk about the use of a small public park.

Sue was followed around by a little girl about 3-years-old and in a moment of inspiration Sue asked her what she wanted to see in the park.

She said, ‘Swings and a slide’.

Do you remember the golden age for libraries?

The days when the librarian ruled supreme.

Any noise would be met with either a stern look, a ‘quiet please’ or ‘you will have to leave’ response from the librarian.

Well, it’s mayhem now. They let any ‘riff raff’ in.

The other day I was in a library browsing for something to read. I walked in and out of the aisles and discovered a fascinating book to flick through.

I sat down on a stool nearby and then the ‘riff raff’ erupted.

A little kid was laughing and talking and running around the aisles.

A student working on a computer talked loudly on her mobile phone.

Elderly people nearby raised their voices.

All very distracting, as I read the same  paragraph several times.

They really should ban the ‘riff raff’ from the library.

No kids – no students – no elderly people, allowed in the library.

That way I can sit quietly in my corner and read my book – Organized Crime – in peace.

It’s not a good look to enter an upmarket clothing store wearing a bogan shirt and a beanie.

The salesperson who saw this ‘apparition’ must have thought I was a bum.

All I needed was a ‘thousand yard stare’ and I would have been ejected by security.

But I managed to hang in there and look at the coats on special. I avoided the temption to check the pockets for some spare change.

The salesperson occassionaly glanced towards me in case I jammed a few coats under my arm and did ‘ a runner’.

Just as she was about to press a security buzzer, Sue walked in and gave me some instant credibility.

I was no longer a ‘vagrant’ but a potential customer.

Sue helped me try on a three-quarter-length coat and the fit was perfect. From the neck down to my calf muscles I looked like a real ‘dandy’. Though the rest of me needs a lot of work.

Anyway, I decided to buy the coat and opened my wallet and to the delight of the salesperson, no moths flew out. Just my credit card.

The next time I rush out and go shopping I must check my shirt.

Maybe I’ll wear my new three-quarter-length coat over my bogan shirt.

So I don’t look wrong.

Footnote: Bogan – lower class

I love my cooked corn cobs dripping in butter.

Last night I was eating my corn cobs watching television.

Big mistake.

As I bit into the corn my taste buds sent me into food heaven. The butter melted in my mouth and over my fingers.

And then it happened.

A commercial appeared.

I quickly reached for the remote control which I always have nearby in case of such emergencies.

I was about to pick it up and to my horror I noticed my fingers covered in butter.

What to do?

Press the remote with my greasy fingers?

Or continue eating my delicious corn cob and suffer the screaming commercial.

My taste buds overpowered my weak mind and I kept eating my corn cob with my buttered fingers.

After I fed my face I rushed over to the tap and  washed my hands, dried them and picked up the remote control.

A fifth commercial started to appear and I zapped it by changing channels.

And guess what?

Yes, another commercial appeared.

I turned the television off.

And buried my head in the corn cob bowl.