European Stare

All posts tagged European Stare

European Stare

Published September 2, 2019 by helentastic67

European Stare

There is likely a version of this in every country and culture, as is my style I prefer to describe a situation or scenario, so you can best imagine to which that I refer.

I had scheduled a time to call a friend, we are both busy. I often do this as it’s how I make sure things happen and my life works.

While I’m busy with my appointments, my ‘not-working’ and the voluntary stuff and the friend with her family and being a mum.

So, I rang her and after the bold statement that she felt ‘people didn’t call her because they think she’s OK, because she has a husband’.

Um, can you feel my eye rolls?

You all know I don’t have a husband?

The painful conversation continued and she was telling me about a toy they had purchased for their second child, said child was clearly in the background and correcting mum for calling said toy by its wrong name.

Can you feel my disinterest in said conversation?

This story come from about five years ago and I can’t believe how vividly I recall it. There seemed to be more conversation between mother and daughter than mother and Helen, so I cut the call short because it was giving me a migraine.

,

The following day I had a conversation with a friend in actual person. Said person comes from a Greek background and is as ‘Aussie’ as I am. She threw me a look of horror and surprise. I couldn’t help it, I smiled because we both know what she was going to say.

She said “Oh no! My daughter come up to me when I’m on the phone and they know not to bother me.” She went on to say the closer her children insisted on her attention the sterner the “look” would get.

My mum, who is not European, is from good Aussie/English/Irish stock, yet not first fleet.

Did not do European stare.

As a youngster, my mum spent a lot of time on the phone. No really, so long, if there is a world record for mum’s spending time on the phone it would have my mum’s name on it.

She did something different after stomping our feet and grumbling, doing the little grumpy dance (You know the one, lie you need to go to the bathroom and are waiting for permission) Didn’t need to, just painting a picture. I was young.

Mum can say to whomever she was speaking to “Can you just hang on a second?” as she put her hand over the mouth piece and said to you. “Can you go peel the potatoes” or maybe “Pick some carrots” or you know “feed the cat.” You knew, it was always something, seemed like busy work to me.

So, you either learned to leave her be and find something close to distract yourself, but you know she could talk. Now I use the European stare on her. It’s good for every time you need to communicate simple things and easy to add tone.

 

Preston Markets

Published August 26, 2019 by helentastic67

Preston Markets

This is about my fifth blog post I’ve written in a sitting, over ninety minutes, so it might give you an idea of how the old filing cabinet that is my brain works and I haven’t had a day to sit and write for maybe a month, so I’m way behind.

But I just wanted to circle back briefly to my adventures to the Preston Markets on the Saturday mornings with the then boyfriend.

While I was working in the area, I would prefer to go after work on a Thursday or Friday night to get “just a few things” and carry them home on the train. Early evenings were really quiet and it was a nice way to finish the day after work.

However, as you might recall, going on a Saturday, I had a strict time schedule that I wanted/needed to go because and this is the main reason. I think the boyfriend did not like going and that is because he hated the ‘wogs’.

What? Shock horror! That sounds racist. However, he was not from Australia, he was from the States and he didn’t understand “wogs”.

Preston and other areas around Melbourne have a long history of wogs (Italian/Greeks etc) and while the ex was tall, he didn’t cope with the masses of Nona’s pushing their way in and around him and their shopping carts into him.

He would often let out a noise of displeasure in a fruit and veg stall and I would look over at him. A Nona had pushed her trolley into him as if he wasn’t there. He was just in their way and they didn’t much care.

He obviously just needed to give them the European stare. Yes!

%d bloggers like this: