We went to a place called Paddy’s Markets in Sydney, which is basically an Australian Chow Kit Road. I lasted the last winter season with one sweater and it was time to get another one, and the choices where between one with black and grey stripes, or a blue one. The latter had the lead, with the right size and my kind of blue. There were groups of fine lines across the aqua tones that seemed to me to be collections of musical staves waiting for music to adorn them.
It was only towards the end that I realized that, obscured by the hood, the blue choice had a weird logo and brand name on the back, which seemed to be a poor attempt at alliteration: Rucky Race. Which, mindless as it was, was still preferable to Lucky Lace, I suppose. At this point, the right size for the other jacket arrived, and after I made my purchase, my dad came to ask about the progress and the choice, to which I said, “You know Rucky Race? It Rost.”
The Sydney Opera House guide said, “They decided that using taxpayer’s dollars to build what was essentially an entertainment cemter wasn’t good politics. As gambling is big in Australia – with the highest number of gamblers per capita in the world – a lottery was held. People like myself who bought lottery tickets helped build what you see here. Now, do we have any quick questions?”
And I responded, “So, did you win?”
“Nope. Never met anyone who did. But I hear they are out there, somewhere.”
Heading to KL for a couple of days, hopefully will be musical - and eventful.