Shopping in the Dustbins
I came out of the newspaper office and there staring me in the face was
a pair of legs sticking straight out towards me. I naturally stopped.
The feet had on a pair of heavy boots, and a pair of legs disappeared
into a skirt. The rest of the body was invisible, being inside the
wheely-bin.
It's a sign of the times. I smiled sweetly at her companion, standing
beside the bin with a big check shopping bag.
I suppose, for the record, I should have had my camera to snap the
archetypical image of a country going down the drain. Is this going to
become the image to distinguish those countries that are sinking into
the mire? Greece, Cyprus, Portugal. Legs sticking out of the dustbin,
while searching hands lift out anything remotely usable, and maybe even
sellable.
I had to go to the cash-point, and then back to the newspaper office.
The place was packed out with folks carrying shopping bags. This mobile
phone cant be opened to change the sim-card. This laptop has crashed,
and so on. My router was up the spout.
When I finally got out again the two ladies had a whole panoply of
clothes and odd bits and pieces laid out on the pavement, and were
gradually packing them into the shopping bag. Another successful day at
the dustbins.
I suddenly felt wealthy, and climbed into my car and motored back to my
nice big house with acres of land, masses of fruit trees, river running
through the garden, peaches swelling on the branches, kumquats showing
orange in the hedgerow, almonds fattening up behind sprays of leaves,
and oranges and lemons on all sides.
Is this how the middle class suddenly disappears to leave those who are
okay (at least for the time being), and those that are living right on
the margins of society? For the moment that latter group manages to
smile back as I pass. I hope things dont get worse and they start to
snarl, and then, horror of horror, pounce and steal.
Maybe I should run to somewhere else before it all gets out of hand. I
dont like the look of things. It reminds me of Albania in the bad old
days where the only thing that stopped wholesale attack was the domed
look-out shelters on every corner, with armed police hidden inside,
always watching, and everybody frightened. Spooky isn't the word. Is
that coming shortly to a starving zone near us?
john