It seems that repetition is always present no matter where or how we live. I find myself queuing at the supermarket almost daily. I still hold out hope for something to happen there. It never does. I scan other peoples shopping lists and so wish for some answers. I can see by shoppers’ eyes, they too want something more than the repetitiousness of life. A kind of unexpected surprise. The cashiers put a positive spin on things. They were told to ask for the well being of the shopper. “How are you?” And I answer, “great, thank you”. I encourage and nurture the repeating of a stupefying routine. We are all in cahoots. Yet, the sun is shining and the croissants are on special. Three for $1.99.
Was it therefore inevitable that the painting of clock dials would come to an end sooner than anticipated? Even the move to another farm to the East of Holland could only hold off the end of my clock painting career for just a while. My tolerance for routine I never mastered. Some people thrive on knowing exactly what to expect next day, next year, next decade and get nervous when they don’t. Of course, we all accept some routine. We shop and pay bills. We fill the car with petrol and stare at the bowser with keen intent. At the super market I play a silly game with Helvi and tell her the amount that our shopping will come to. I just scan all the goods on the conveyer belt and make a guess. I tell Helvi and the cashier the amount before the scanning takes place. Helvi rolls her eyes. When I get close, it makes my morning and I smile. It helps to pass the time! The cashier gives a smile too. They are all so brave.
One morning when I had set up the clock dials all in a row on the work-table, I could not get to paint another seagull. Helvi and I had done at least six months of clock faces at fifty a week. That is at least twelve hundred clock faces and at roughly four seagulls a piece, amounted to 4800 hundred seagulls, give and take a few. ( I had reduced seagulls of late. A clear sign that the end was nigh.) I packed the box of dials and drove back to the clock factory to give notice. I was jubilant and had put on the car radio. The manager understood. He too suffered the same lethargy and had a large family. He took satisfaction from being a good provider putting food on the table. He also used to go fishing in the week-ends. “It brings me peace,” he said smiling a bit. Lots of Dutch people go fishing and also like doing cross-word puzzles. It helps and makes life bearable.
We are all so brave.
Tags: Cashiers, croissants, Dutch, Seagulls
August 7, 2015 at 12:29 am |
I thrive on routine and yet those breaks from routine are the stuff of life. A seeming paradox.
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August 7, 2015 at 1:13 am |
Perhaps I only pretend to like the unknown. I am not sure how I would go being thrown in the unknown. I do like my own bed, can hardly cope with a coffee with one sugar instead of two..
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August 7, 2015 at 1:08 am |
Now that the seagulls fade into the past, let’s see what happens next to the Oosterman ménage!
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August 7, 2015 at 1:10 am |
Yes Elizabeth, it is inevitable. Finally, we try and steer towards what we feel happy with. A kind of equilibrium. We might stir the pot, create a storm in a teacup, squeeze it a bit but end up chucking the teabag.
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August 7, 2015 at 4:00 am |
We are brave. Unsung bravery. On the other hand, adrift at sea on uncharted waters is no picnic either. An exceptionally well written piece, Gerard!
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August 7, 2015 at 6:29 am |
Thank you, Nina.
I’ll sing your bravery anytime and laud your words.
If you come across an imitation Grandfather clock signed GO at the right hand corner just below a windmill, let me know.
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August 7, 2015 at 7:33 am |
It’s a shame, Gerard, that you did not think of keeping one of these Granfather clocks as a souvenir! 🙂
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August 7, 2015 at 7:58 am |
I doubt those clock would have lasted that long. No grandfather should have to endure imitations of any kind. They, now more than ever, need the real thing. It is bad enough to put up with false teeth in a glass jar next to the conjugal bed. Of course, so do Grandmothers. ( need the real thing)
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August 7, 2015 at 1:17 pm |
The clock’s ticking, time is rolling on and not a seagull in sight. So what’s next Gerard? I’m really enjoying your memoirs and yes, I think that you are very brave, and it seems that you always have been. What a wonderful, courageous writer you are.
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August 7, 2015 at 10:47 pm |
Thank you Lottie,
We are driving to a place today where they sell good boots. It is my birthday present from Helvi. RM William boots. They last a lifetime d cost a fortune and are the real McCoy. They might well end up part of the family heirloom. Still , better than a dodgy dishonest clock!
https://www.google.com.au/#q=rm+williams&tbm=shop
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August 8, 2015 at 8:07 am
what handsome boots! Go strut your stuff, Gerard! 🙂
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August 7, 2015 at 5:11 pm |
It seems you have always trusted your instincts Gerard. When the book gets boring, turn the page or buy a new book. It’s the artist in you.
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August 7, 2015 at 10:54 pm |
Thank you Kayti,
A boring book ends up back with the charity shop of Father Riley. Of course, Milo is the master of following instincts. Look where he ended up! His ever whim is obeyed. The world his oyster.
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August 7, 2015 at 7:24 pm |
Gerard, you clearly need to become the organiser of flash mobs. This will spice up the supermarket visits and create variation in life. One of my favourites
And here’s one in a supermarket
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August 7, 2015 at 11:09 pm |
Great! Thank you Hilary. Supermarkets are great places to be in. We go almost daily, often to get fresh fish, mainly salmon cutlets and a bunch of bok choy. There are those who seem to study ever item before finally deciding. Others run through on the go, grabbing willy- nilly anything they fancy. ( I like those the most)
Yesterday I saw a man who wanted a leg of lamb. He looked and studied it from every angle, reading the date of expiry and all other items of interest such as weight, contents, nutrition information etc. He walked to the cash register, queued up and then decided at the last moment not to buy it and left it behind with the batteries and headache tablets. Some very strange shopping habits but fascinating just the same.
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August 8, 2015 at 5:07 am |
I’m so glad Hilary added her uTubes of interrupting the boredom of shopping. I do love how these are happening around the globe. Also enjoyed your post, Gerard! 🙂
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August 9, 2015 at 9:54 am |
Of course going to the supermarket is hardly a trip deep inside the pyramid of Cheops or viewing Iguazu water falls.. .But it is always helpful to make the best of a boring situation. It is therefore helpful that sometimes a young person sits there in front of the entrance and plays a cello or guitar and even sings.
It is to be admired.
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August 9, 2015 at 7:56 am |
Am putting off going….but could never do the on-line buy and deliver so I suppose I’d better just not think about it and be brave!
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August 9, 2015 at 9:57 am |
Oh no. Me too. How anyone can shop on-line is beyond me. You go out and shop Sedwith. I have just read about the latest hackings. Unbreakable virus and people end up paying up as there is no solution.
I want to see my apples or licorice in the real. No EBay for me, ever!
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August 9, 2015 at 10:38 am
I survived and even managed a brief chat at the vegies…
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August 9, 2015 at 11:07 pm
Say hello to the ice-berg lettice from me next time, Sedwith.
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August 9, 2015 at 10:56 pm |
It is stutifying. I have a husband who loves routine and it bores me to tears…. but on occasions is comforting. I think routine gives people a sense of control. Others relish spontaneity. The supermarket is definitely not the place to find spontaneity unless it is at Sunday afternoon just before closing time and the are clearing all the persishables…..
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August 9, 2015 at 11:49 pm |
Yes, I do try and make the best of supermarket shopping. At Aldi’s there are now so many objects and aids for the infirm it is a worry. I am from a continental background, European through and through. Yet, the pads and pull-ups for the (in)continent are looming on the shelves. How does Aldi know?
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August 10, 2015 at 12:29 am
It is like when one is trying to fall pregnant, one sees pregnant women everywhere. I haven’t noticed these at Aldi myself, but I hope I am a few years away from needing them!!!!
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March 27, 2019 at 12:24 am |
Gerard..I see similarities in your writing…that “hunger” for the invisible..for what could be possible…a dream..
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