Sunday, July 5, 2009

These boots are made for....?

The good news is that Simon has returned from his two week overseas trip; the bad news is that the dog, who has been relatively well behaved in his absence, decided to celebrate the return of the Alpha male by digging a monster hole in the lawn. It was slightly unfortunate that I hadn’t spotted the excavations before I went to the airport as I could perhaps have camouflaged it or at least shovelled some of the earth back in. As it was the first thing that greeted Simon as he wandered into the back garden was the sight of the Pluto sitting triumphantly on an earthen mound. All thoughts of a happy homecoming vanished as Simon pursued the black fiend round the garden with murder in his heart.

I have been looking for a pair of boots for ages and once I had managed to stop Simon phoning vets and enquiring how much for the canine one way ticket to the sky, we wandered up round our local market and then finding ourselves outside a shoe shop went in. I should perhaps explain that we have slightly different ideas on the ideal pair of boots – views that perhaps could be characterised as male/female. Simon tends to favour thigh length and gleaming black in the Pussy Galore, Bond Girl mode, whereas I point out that a) I would look more like Puss in Boots in such a get up and b) I would like to be able to wear the boots to do normal things like school pick up rather than constantly looking as if I am on my way to an S & M bondage party.

We had DQ no.1 with us and whilst the trip was a success in that I did find and buy a pair of boots that we all liked, it was unfortunate that as I rolled up my trousers to try them on, both Simon and DQ no.1 said simultaneously and loudly “My God, you’ve got hairy legs”. Needless to say the entire shop came to a halt and turned to peer at Bison Woman trying on her boots. The only thing I can say in my defence is that I had to cancel the leg waxing appointment because I was working in the school canteen.

Apart from the fact it left me with legs that could compete with the dog on the hairy front, (perhaps I’ll start digging holes to get attention), I love doing canteen duty. As the recess bell rings the counter is deluged with small faces peering over, and up at the counter and mouthing their orders. I find it very endearing the way in which small children push 50 cents towards you whilst hopefully reciting the list of goods they would like to purchase, which generally total about $2.50. A lengthy process of negotiation then follows where I try gently to match monetary total and ambition.

On the monetary front I have just been listening to an advert on the radio where it was suggested the way to financial success was to “learn how to trade foreign exchange”. Apparently all you need to get started is a computer, a phone line and access to the company’s handy tips and your money worries will be a thing of the past. It felt almost immoral to me – along the lines of “short of cash, try your luck at the casino” or “need some money, take up betting”. However before I sound too pious on this one, let’s just remember who was pinning their hopes on winning the lottery last week.

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