Nature Strips And Treasure!

There’s not a lot of money to be made delivering junk mail. Some people I know hold the opinion that I’m being exploited. But  at 56 with a few health issues there’s not a lot of major corporations lining up to offer me a six figure salary. Truth is, I like delivering the weekly epistles from the local stores. It may not pay a lot. May not look impressive on a resume. But it does have one fringe benefit. I get the first look at the  treasure people leave on their nature strips, mark generously , ‘  Free to a good home.’

Over the last twelve months I have inherited three tables courtesy of the footpath op shop! As we gather nightly and share our family meal we are perched at a fine table which came free of charge due to my eagle eye while on my advertising trek. We fill the table with food. Surround it with laughter. Swirl it with plans and schemes. And when the meal is over, the tables generous size is perfect for folding the next run of junk mail. I’d call that circular. The table came via the junk mail and gives back to the junk mail.

Our lounge room is likewise home to another table found in a quite back street. It’s a trendy little number. It’s got black tubular legs and a sexy smoked glass top. It’s definitely an after five kind of thing. The day I saw it sitting suggestively on the nature strip I must admit I wondered whether I could live up to such a trendy piece of furniture.  Could I be cool enough to ask friends around for a cuppa around this black beauty without appearing like I was trying too hard to impress? Guess what? I pulled it  off. My street side scavenging is even making me cooler!

The third table I purloined on my weekly trek in hindsight is a bit worse for wear. Had my bride with me the morning I stumbled upon it, I doubt it would have made it into the back of the car. It’s a green plastic job and I must admit, looks like it’s been outdoors in the Sarah desert for one to many summers. But it was free. It was begging me to give it a new life. So it now sits proudly on the back verandah from where this blog emanates. I love the notion that something discarded, can take on a new life. That a table can become a launching pad for daydreaming and writing.

I’ve gotta go now. There’s 250 catalogues calling my name. And who knows what I might find on the nature strip of life!


I’ m 56? Can’t Be!..

Age is a funny thing I reckon. It crept up on me when I least expected it. I’m sure it was only a few daydreams ago that I was thinking how cool I’d be when I hit my my twenties. I dreamed about the job I’d have. The car I’d drive. I even pictured myself pacing out the boundary of all the land I’d have invested in. Ah, youth. Dreams. Ambition. I always convinced myself that my happiness was just a few years ahead. I willed myself to get focused, start a savings plan, quit smoking, grow a beard!
But I didn’t save. Kept on with the smokes. Gave up on the beard and as I look back now I realise that  I spent a lot of time worrying about all the stuff I hadn’t achieved.
I reckon from the start the dream of having a beard was a big ask. My facial hair was at best bum fluff. The chance of ever having anything on my face that could be combed was aiming a bit high. I was still getting pimples in my twenties ! I looked so young. Felt so skinny and more than once people mistook my daughter for my sister.
If only I could look older, I often mused. If only I looked a bit more rugged. A bit more sporty. A bit more like a parent a bit less like a big brother.
Ah yes how I worried. If worry had been an Olympic event, I would have been a gold medalist.So now I’mm 56. Still worrying too much? You’ll have to keep reading to find out! See Ya