Don’t rush to judge a book by its cover

May 8 2009 by Bill Oldfield, The Journal

SOMETIMES I wonder if I’m all there. I know my wife does and thinks that I seem to daydream my way through life. She’s got a point as it appears that I’ve always got some grand plan or unreasonable ambition such as running a bar on a Greek Island or becoming a rock star.

But I love to let my mind wander. While not being a particularly creative person, I do enjoy giving my imagination as much free-reign as possible.

And as a result, I love people watching. I could quite happily be that sad bloke you see sat in the corner of the pub on his own. You may think I’ve no friends and while you’re probably right, I’m perfectly happy, sitting watching folk; imagining what they’re like, what their aspirations are and how they live.

There are plenty of other opportunities for such a thing.

For a start, if I wish, I can begin every day sitting wasting my time on the A1 in my futile attempt to get into Newcastle. This gives me the opportunity to look around and wonder what’s going through other people’s minds as they sit there too.

There seems to be fewer mobile phones on the go since I got caught a couple of years ago stuck in stationary traffic on the Swan House roundabout making a call home to say I’d be late. So with less opportunity to talk, people do less dangerous things such as fiddle with the radio, light cigarettes, pick their noses and apply their makeup – sometimes not all at the same time – and, I suppose, think.

Well what’s going through their minds? It can’t be the same as mine otherwise the whole world would be into surreptitious amateur psychoanalysis and would ultimately explode. One can only guess.

And then there’s the supermarket; a wonderful place to people watch and I should love it. For a start, I’m lucky in that I’m a bloke and more of the shoppers seem to be women than men.

Now it’s not that I’m some sort of pervert, rather that I prefer looking at women. It’s not for nothing that the most famous painting in the world is of a woman.

I said I “should” love it rather than I do. Stick with me. There’s a classy looking woman pushing her trolley past the cheap chicken. Well that’s all right. She’s obviously been here before and is deliberately spurning the watery, inhumanely-reared stuff classed as A Grade. And she’s made a decision to walk straight past the sweaty bacon. You know the stuff; the sort that leaves brown gunge in your frying pan.

She’s obviously just my type – or so I dream. Smart, independent, well-dressed in a stylish way and someone who thinks about what she’s eating. I wonder what she’s cooking tonight? Having already passed the vegetables she’ll obviously have stocked up on the freshest seasonal, local produce. Maybe the first spears of English asparagus or some purple sprouting broccoli and a few fresh herbs?

Being careful not be arrested, I wander over and glance expectantly into her trolley to find – white bread, instant noodles and a tin of stew. How could I have been so mistaken? Are looks so deceptive.

But then it dawns on me. She’s shopping for a neighbour and is only staying in that street temporarily while waiting for her country cottage to be renovated. What a lovely woman she must be. It just goes to show; you should never judge a book by its cover.

Just because someone doesn’t appreciate what they’re buying and doesn’t think about what they’re feeding themselves doesn’t mean they’re not better people. Does it?