The Hobart Chronicles XXXVIII: Summer in the northernmost city

"Hot town, summer in the city,
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty...

All around people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a matchhead"

- The Lovin' Spoonful, 1966

You know, I dared not write for a long time lest I jinx the dentist and land him in hospital again. So I kept my mouth shut, and voila! [think Iron Chef now...] The Great Dental Reconstruction Odyssey is OVAH! The choppers are settling in and I can now grin like an idiot again.

It's a good thing I can open my mouth again without shame or embarassment, because I'm temporarily at work in the Northern Terror-tory where it's the start of the wet, and both perspiration and aspiration are constant bodily activities. They may not be very ladylike, but there's no getting away from it.

It's also the start of the Top End's monsoon and cyclone season, which strikes terror into my miserable southern frame; the less said about these, the better. (ref. jinx). Walk out of an airconditioned environment and your sunglasses fog up. There are gekkos on the walls at night.

Duh-win is a ghost town right now. Everyone has cleared out to spend Christmas in some other part of the country - it seems very few people here are genuine 'locals'. The unspoken subtext also seems to be if disaster strikes there's not much to be done about it anyway so better to be elsewhere with a glass in your hand.

So unlike Slobart, which had sped up considerably in the pre-Christmas rush, you could shoot a rifle down the Duh-win mall at lunchtime and not hit a stray dog.

This means you can meander the streets and take a good look at small details that might otherwise slip by unnoticed. Like some of the interesting business signs.

Consider, now, that the following are associated with commercial businesses, the aim of which is to extract your hard-earned dollars to turn a profit. What do they say about the locals?

I like this one. It doesn't leave you in any doubt.

Would you have your hair cut here?

This sign, believe it or not, is for a frock shop. Stocked with daggy frocks. There's also a limited stock of (daggy) men's attire available.

All I can gather from this brief sample is that people in Duh-win are not overly concerned with their appearance. Or, judging by the last example, concerned only to the extent that they may get a root out of it. (Looks like you don't have to try too hard, if those clothes at Infidelity are anything to go by.)

However, maybe this makes the locals happy. Indeed, the few who haven't cleared out ahead of possible weather-related devastation do seem in a pretty good mood. They say "g'day", and smile in the street. Shopkeepers stop for a chat and cafe owners recognise you for a regular after only 3 days.

Even my hotel housekeeper is in a good mood.

Or maybe I am just a tidy guest and she is pleased about this.