Picture Perfect

The following post may contain nudity, violence or swearing and is rated 12 in the UK and 13PG in the rest of the world. Viewer discretion is advised. Read on to get to the good stuff.

People are funny.
Often, I'm content to just sit in public places watching people go by, watching them talk to their friends, partners and children. I see what can only be described as the tricks, ploys and bribes used by parents to pacify their wailing children, I notice the way a young couple sit close to each other and say nothing, whilst at the next table or the next chair, a slightly older couple sit apart, perhaps reading seperate books. Familiarity? Nothing new in their relationship? Said it all before? Or is it that the younger couple need the reassurance of their partner's commitment or love, whereas the older couple are already assured of it? 

Perhaps by now an argument between two people disturbs my thoughts, such as the one in Geneva airport, on my way back from France only a short few weeks ago. Ah. This is what I was waiting for...And I wasn't dissapointed.

The scene was entirely comical. I was sitting outside the duty free shop (notice singular, implied specificity by use of "the" - there basically was only one duty free shop) allowing a friend to browse the shop at his whim, whilst I was eating breakfast. To my far left were the gates to the world. On my immediate right, was the gate to France. Aside from that amusing polarity, the argument between husband and wife was brewing nicely. It was taking place in Arabic, between a burqa/niqab/hijab (the last of these terms is generally used incorrectly in this context, but many people understand it to be correct nontheless) clad woman and a greying man. They were speaking an Islamic arabic dialect which I do not speak (indeed, the arabic which I do speak is laughably poor), but I was still able to understand what was being said, for the most part.

The husband and wife, already half a corridor away from each other and now raising their voices nicely couldn't decide which gate to go through, their agitation at their inability to read English was only increased as they were very aware of the fact that they were already running very late. They had to choose one gate and stick with it. There was no room for mistakes, it was either one side or the other of the airport. "This one!" the wife maintained; a stream of Arabic I didn't understand followed, but I could imagine the words: "stop being so obstinate, you old goat!" The man looked kind of helpless, I'm guessing his wife knew more English than he, but it wasn't long before he was swearing by none other than the prohpet mohummed that it was the other way. Meanwhile, the wife disappeared to wherever those stairs led, and the husband went in the opposite direction, whilst indulging in the trademark under-the-breath utterances of Arabic cursing. It's a lovely language to curse in even when cursing under one's breath [that part's almost obligatory], but they're best said loudly and better yet, over the words of the person you're swearing at. Indeed, in Israel, Arabic is the language of curses and swearing - there are no swear words in Hebrew, so perhaps that isn't surprising [what is a shocker, is that no swear words have evolved over thousands of years, much to my delight, in fact]. The dirtiest word [well, two words] is "son/daughter of a strange woman," "strange woman" meaning "prostitute." Really, the language is so clean, there isn't even a word for "toilet." It's "house of the throne" - throne, no less! Someone had a sense of humour, no doubt....This is in contrast to Arabic, which has at least 6 different words for "dick" and 4 different words for "whore." From the traditional Arabian nights insults - "elf gamool mel jemel jawa bartek (may you have 1,000 camel fleas in your armpits) to the funny phrases which are funny regardless of which language they're said in ("how much for a night?" Or, in the words of Borat "very nice. I like. How much?") to really descriptive rude phrases I shan't repeat here.

Of course, throughout this whole episode, I was grinning wildly, much to the amusement of another bystander, opposite me, who caught my eye and had a smaller grin which seemed to say "I know why you're grinning, it's funny, but naughty naughty!" But I love too, the European reaction to such loudness, which in itself only lends to the comedy. People around me acted as if they were completely unaware of what was going on; that is the most typical European response: ignore it. Nothing's happening. Don't look and it doesn't exist. Hold your paper higher. 

Brilliant! The most earth shattering event could be taking place in central London, an earthquake, perhaps, and bankers, lawyers and business people everywhere would march right by, briefcases in hand, pausing only to straighten their ties or hair, once clear of the epicentre.

On another note, for some inexplicable reason, I felt the urge to go downstairs and open the fridge, poke around and see what was doing in there. As I went down the stairs, I saw the postman walking up to my front door and as I reached the bottom stair, a whole load of letters came pouring through. Naturally, I went to pick them up...when I saw a little purple envelope, nestled among the larger assorted envelopes and junk mail. Mindful that Steph was sending me a letter, I picked it up. Right away I saw it was from steph (the shape of your sexy lips - I'll know them anywhere - was enough...) The thing that surprised me wasn't the kiss (pshh, to be expected) but the fact that it was sent to "DJ, Lord of the Universe." I've been telling everyone to call me that for years - finally! Some recognition!

I opened it (careful not to rip the kiss that sealed the envelope) and was delighted to see a card as well as a hello kitty page full of writing. What was written more resembled a soft-core porn novel than anything else and I had great fun reading it. I should also probably mention it was pretty much doused in perfume (was it really toilet freshner? I swear I smelt that same smell on someone today... On a side note, my memory of perfume by scent is limited to coco chanel. You'd be surprised how many people actually wear it - and correctly "guessing" the perfume a girl's wearing never fails to pleasantly surprise and impress ;-) [incorrectly guessing makes a fool out of you]).

Here are some of my favourite lines:
"Ooh, remember that time we lay on that grassy knoll?" That was just so Enid Blyton I had to laugh. Another Blyton moment was the use of the word "frolicked."

"...I love you and want you to be the father of my fertilized eggs." That was just so odd, once again, I had to laugh :P

But anyway, what am I doing, revealing lover's secrets, eh? Steph, I was half tempted to put it in an envelope and send it back addressed to your parents :P
But I shan't....for now.*

Anyway, for now your letter, card and envelope shall live with Arty's card (Hallmark, I'll have you know!) and Cat's postcard...  

But more importantly, your writing provided a nice sample to be analyzed :p *
You (from what little I remember of this stuff and with help from the internetty) are: outgoing, friendly, impulsive, and emotionally open (all'cos of yourright slant), can handle pressure well ('cos of your moderate pressure with the pen), you're easygoing (cos of your letter size), you're logical as well as intuitive ('cos of some of your connecting letters), once again openess is indicated by your open letters (i.e. your's "o," "a" and other letters that should have a closed top, in fact have an open top). Basically, you're confident and open. Nothing new there.

Anyway, I shall go now. I have to do other stuff. So. Uhh. Take care! Until we speak again lovah stephy-poos ;-) 

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*My silence can be bought. Blackmail monies should be sent to the same address. Cash only. No cheques.