The Writer

 My Local Shopping Mall.

Arriving ten minutes before opening time at 10 am., I sat in the waiting area outside (see picture) and looked across at the crowd gathering tightly around the door in order to be the first through.  Why do we do this?  The mall’s capacity is for thousands, the crowd, roughly 50 people of all shapes and sizes speaking Spanish, English, German and Danish are surreptitiously jostling to position themselves in front of the crack so that as the doors slide open their dainty size 42’s are the first to tread those shiny ceramic tiles. 

Now I say size 42’s because these competitive characters are all men.  The ladies are all hanging back; the older ones rolling their granny wheelies backward and forward with a faraway look in their eyes, the middle aged ones leaning on one leg and tapping the toe of the foot on the other leg as if in time to some silent orchestra and the younger ones idly looking at their nails, adjusting their clothing, sussing the talent and generally looking absolutely stunning in Spanish, English, German and Danish. What time do these ladies get up in the morning?  Everything is in place, perfect, controlled and styling.  Boy, I am SO glad I’m not a man (of any age) in this country where the women walk around half naked showing off their perfectly tanned and toned bodies. 

Anyway, back to the boyz….  now once upon a time Spain was where the females were gorgeous until they married and then they let themselves go to fat but now,  as I watch these testosterone fuelled specimens of manhood vying to be first, I notice that the younger ones are all muscles and machismo, supplement and gym toned to perfection. Their slightly older brothers starting to go to seed and then what looks like the  40-60 age group which I had always found very sexy are saggy, unkempt and decidedly miserable looking.  There are today,  just a few 60+ and guess what guys, they are standing in the 2^nd row watching the front row in amusement.  I can literally feel their mirth from here – they have nothing to prove – they KNOW the coup.

The doors  open, the rush was on, the crowd is gone and a gaping void awaits  my dainty 38’s.