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HE'S SO COOL
An
elderly man with his slight stoop,
his brown
corduroys, his checked
blue
swandri, a towel around his neck
would not
excite anyone’s interest
- nor
would the bright red backpack
or the
carton, string-tied, under his arm;
except
he’s so intent to appear casual
and look
like a regular boating man
- walking
down the busy Mainland wharf
he
reminds one of a Red Setter dog
with all
muscles a-quiver when
it’s
scented game – alerting
the ferry
queue to turn and watch
as he
hesitates and shades his eyes
then
turns too quickly at a holler
from an
old-time skipper
on an
old-time launch
tied up
to the left of the wharf.
His walk
goes into slow-motion – cool,
he’s so
cool, as he shrugs his backpack
to ease
his shoulders and then resettles
the
carton under his arm - but look, see
how he’s
now walking up on his toes.
But he
gives only the most casual, ‘hi,
weather
looks good,’ as he hands over
the
carton, then the backpack, before
climbing
sprightly onto the deck
and immediately
starts untying ropes
as the
diesel coughs and chugs into life.
A couple
of Islanders leave the queue
and
wander over to observe
how his
hands fumble as he unties
and then
forgets to coil the ropes.
Two old
codgers standing side by side
as the
launch moves down the channel,
- one
thinking that he can’t be seen
is
happily patting the cabin-top
to an
unheard tune and grinning widely
with his
face upturned like a kid
to feel
the Souwesterly wind.
“Doesn’t
look like that poor bugger
is let out
to play very often,” says
an
Islander. The others sigh and
then nod
in agreement.
Copyright: Lois E Hunter
lois.e.hunter2@gmail.com
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