scene
afternoon tea trestle table dressed with one finely hand blown vase, three red,
flowers inserted; one black laptop,
one black on white with
splodged pink teacup;
three books stacked (grey, red and black)
on top one grey hand phone.
to the left of table on floor is placed one black bag with
...two loaves of bread
...unopened
NZ Gouda cheese
...one bunch of flowers
...one miniature red 50’s style clutch bag
STORYLINE:
thing about those cosy romantic Canberra bistros is they squeeze the tables in and with six inches on either side of your table, ones default dining companions for the evening are the immediate neighbours left and right.
Edward and I recently found ourselves in a trendy new Canberra retro-goth bistro next to an American couple, recently engaged. They were whispering to each other clearly delighted with the experience, the food, the atmosphere, the sweat, and the stale aroma of movie aftermath. After they finished their meals, on some silent command, they both whipped out their smart phones and for five minutes plus sat centred with screens ten centimetres from their eyes reading,
texting, emailing with intense concentration and frozen faces. Serious business.
Ed, never the exhibitionist, motioned in
sotto voice, “cheese platter delicious”
I commented on the pleasant ambiance of the lighting. Ed followed with pleasantries on the rich array of dead fish dangling from the rafters.
Suddenly there was a blinding sequence of flashes from the American’s pocket socket techno-marvel followed by loud brash comments on how perfect the images will be on his new album cover.
Seemingly the
fiancée was primary backing vocalist on his latest Fish-Goth album. Suddenly the girl started shouting at him
'PRINT YOURSELF ORANGE OSCAR'
The man responded “listen Treacle this is MY show …TOTAL …and FURTHERMORE …”
…upon which his phone lit up in bright gaudy colours with MANTRA-POP 3D STEREO blasting the entire restaurant precinct with the urgency of his self-importance.
epilogue:
Liz and Ed had had enough!
Leaving the remains of the cheese platter for potential communion with the dead fish, they caught the afternoon
CONNEX to Sydney, due
Strathfield 1900.
The business class LCD screen had a network spiel live from the
Whitehouse, Barack himself proffering...
"...Being your own brand requires work and training. Working for a luxury company insists you are a walking advertisement. Incorporate an 'etiquette' session into every sales meeting. This works well, sets a style and makes a favourable impression on all guests. It’s all about hollywood..."
THE ART OF CONVERSATION
