It turns out that not everyone is as interested in the rugby league ladder and the unraveling of the lowly-ranked Raiders as I am*. Who knew?
That wooden spoon I was sent? It really was just a wooden spoon. “I bought two at the markets and just thought you would like to have one. I think it’s ironbark!”
I thought I had a pretty solid grasp on semiotics. I spent a lot of time studying it at university. People have always said that arts degrees lack some capacity for practical application and I have always scoffed and called them shit-kickers but could it be that they are right?
In any case, I misread the signs, scrambled the message and arrived at an illogical conclusion. Sometimes a wooden spoon really is just a wooden spoon. Again, who knew?
*In Nepal I took my Raiders scarf and installed it in a small shrine somewhere near the base of Mount Kangchenjunga in the hope that this would bestow good fortune and great wealth and lower their error count and injury toll and such. There was a Sharks fan with me, he jeered and made derisive comments but then confessed he wished he had thought to bring a jersey and do the same. I felt smug. It was that special kind of smugness derived from superficial acts of random, baseless spirituality. But back in Australia I learnt that the Raiders had lost their last five games. The Sharks, however, were on a dazzling winning streak and had won five straight.
“That’ll learn me”, I thought**.
**- it probably won't.