It's A Parade

Working in a little 'corner shop' style yarn store right on King St in Newtown is not without its entertainment value. (And frankly, as we've now entered the seasonal slow down for knitting and crochet, I'll take any entertainment where I can find it.) The first benefit of being right on the street is, naturally for me, people watching. Yes I mean perving, and yes I mean what the fuh? There is a rich tapestry of life that passes my windows and I couldn't be happier about it.

Another big fave of mine is the seemingly random question. Sometimes they're kind of obscure but you can at least see there was a logic string of sorts. Like yesterday when a woman who seemed a little worse for wear (drugs I suspect) came in to find out how much was the Christmas Tree in the window. Now we clearly don't sell Christmas Trees, either that or we are very low on stock (just 1 left!) and we have chosen to jazz it up with a shop full full of yarn as window dressing. Sometimes the logic strings are a little less obvious, and the requests a lot more obscure.

I can also hear people who stand outside the store. Frequently it's amusing and sweet, and boosts my ego when they are complimenting how the store looks or how the cute the window displays are. Every now and then I hear them be tickled/amused/gobsmacked to see a man working in a knitting store and/or knitting at the counter (if it's really quiet). Eh, nothing I'm not used to by now. Every now and then I just hear a snatch of something excruciatingly intimate being discussed. Sex. Body parts (male and female). Levels of drunkenness. Combinations of all three. I guess it helps that our store is just a stone's throw from the university (known hotbed of drunken fondling and genital obsessiveness).

And ah, Summer weather. That's when watching the passing parade becomes even more enjoyable.