Delta40
12-24-2008, 11:51 PM
Maddie and I wandered through Fremantle as if nothing in the world mattered. I can say authoritively that it didn’t for Maddie because she gets stuck on subjects and closes down to everything around her. While I linger in front of shops, admiring the latest fashions, Maddie carries on down the street, her words punctuated by the framing of her hands, as if she would capture them forever in time. She’s rather pretty in an academic way and her thick glasses fail to hide that bewildering beauty that she seems to be so unaware of. Maddie is always into some interesting observation you see and hasn’t time to dwell on shallow matters of the self.
We grew up together and have little in common because I love to shop and buy great clothes, make-up and accessories. I adore music and men. Maddie, I suspect is using me as a lab rat in some experiment that I’m not aware of.
This evening, she was harping on and on about groups of species and I was just about to go brain dead when a lovely top caught my eye in the Myers window, so I said ‘Oh yes?’ to Maddie and diverted a little off our path to cut across the green to take a closer look. Maddie continued on her theme, barely noticing that I had left her side, until she heard me scream.
In my haste to reach my target and get relief from the ramblings of Maddie, I didn’t notice the group of men prostrated on the ground. I tripped over one, found my footing, stepped on a second, and landed on top of him.
'Oi wash ya doing?' croaked the injured party. The smell of liquor was so strong, if I lit a match, the guy would have been a fireball.
I apologised as I dusted off the invisible dirt, somehow afraid that my clothes would melt on the spot, having come into contact with these low-life’s.
One of drunks struggled to get up and I could see his toothless grin in the dim evening light ‘Give us a proper hug then. Or five bucks.’
As I hurried away from my own embarrassment, Maddie was waiting.
I checked my designer holed stockings for real holes and found none. ‘Wow,’ I said, taking Maddie’s hand to hurry us away ‘That was not pleasant.’
‘They, my friend are known as a Maunder of Men’
‘A what?’
‘A Maunder of Men. A group of beggars or a maunder which is a specific form of begging. It’s late 18th century.’ Maddie’s explanation was so everyday as if one would read it on the back of a weet-bix box that I burst out laughing.
‘You mean to say that there actually names for groups of people as well as animals? I hadn’t quite tuned into the subject earlier Maddie but now I’m listening, especially if you’re talking men. Let’s get a coffee and you can tell me.’
Maddies eyes are larger than life through the magnification of her glasses and her expression of wonderment is quite enchanting ‘I don’t understand what you mean. Why weren’t you tuned in?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s sit down.’ We had arrived on the strip, where the life of Fremantle journeys by foot or wheel. As we walked, we hit pockets of delicious rich mixtures of smells that poured from the cafés and restaurants to lure the passer-by. The aromatic blend of coffee caught our senses and we placed ourselves near the kerb with an idyllic view of life passing us by.
Maddie ordered chai tea while I spoiled myself with a latte and a carrot cake. As we drank, I watched a group of men across the road. They were dressed for Friday night and appeared to be energised. I mean they moved or swayed as if they were dancing to music that wasn’t there. Something was flowing through their group. Maddie’s observation about the Maunder of Men had got to me and I wondered what collective noun these men came under. As women passed by, they crowed or whistled, calling out ‘whas happening?’ They regularly gave each other high fives and knuckle shakes. Eventually, I put down my latte and asked ‘What do you think then?’
‘There are several names for that group, depending where in the world you are. I would have to say the closest one at the moment is, a Mack of Men.’
I watched them in their showy demonstrations, but a group of women who had just occupied the table next to me broke my concentration. I shifted my gaze to them and noticed that all five of them were in their thirties and talking away to each other at the same time. Without hearing what they said, it seemed everyone understood what everyone else was talking about yet, nobody seemed to be listening. Spurts of unanimous laughter rose up from the table followed by competing conversation. What a phenomena I thought as I looked across at Maddie, who for once was smiling. She leant across and discreetly informed me that this particular group is known as a Waffle of Women. I couldn’t have thought of a better name.
‘Why a Mack of Men?’
Mack means smooth operator, a masculine thing, a big truck, manipulative talk, a French kiss, a pimp.’
‘Oh. I see’. Those guys were about male image I suppose but just how many collective groups of men were there? At a table behind Maddie sat three guys in suits who looked rather debonair. One was on his mobile while the other two took in their surroundings with all the arrogance that they could. Given the way they sat and the direction of their noses, anyone would think they were lords of the manor. They looked great in my view.
‘Well what about those guys behind you? Are they Macks? They’re certainly not Maunders’
Maddie swivelled and wrinkled her nose in that way when she appraises anything, man or bacteria. ‘No, definitely not. They are what would be termed as a Mastery of Men. You can see they are skilled, have the upper hand and appear as rulers of their dominion.’
I was busy watching the guy on the phone who was exceptionally cute. Unfortunately, the ring on his left hand told the exact story about the dominion he was in. For a brief moment, our eyes met and he smiled then winked at me. I looked at Maddie who sipped happily on her chai tea. It would seem there are Macks dressed as Masters.
‘Tell me no more about groups of men Maddie. Apart from Waffles of Women, who else is there?’ Maddie’s brow knitted together perplexedly as she calculated the approximate number of groups. ‘Oh, oh I should say any indeterminate number of sub-groups and that without even discussing cross cultural grouping of course.’ Sometimes Maddie is maddening and other times interesting. I inquired about her love life.
‘Are you still seeing that Engineering student?’
‘Oh yes. On and off you know. We’re trying to lay a solid foundation. That’s what Daniel says at any rate. At the moment though he’s working with his fellow students and then spends a great deal of his time on outside EG projects to help him be the best.’
Well Maddie it’s obvious what group of men he comes under.
‘Oh definitely a Mastery. He’ll excel in everything he does.’
‘Actually, I was thinking along some other lines with him.’
Maddie frowned, wrinkled her nose and peered through her thick lenses as she mentally went through the possible groups that her engineering beau could come under and found one other.
‘A Matrimonial of Men’ I mean, Daniel is the marrying type and that’s what we will do once we’re married, according to the 18th century definition…I mean, gosh…Maddie actually trailed off and managed to fidget in her flustered silence. I added to it by shaking my head solemnly. Maddie tilted her glasses across her face as she wrestled with her academic countenance. It is amazing how such things seem to be of tantamount importance to her, and I realised that I could easily pass the evening idly watching life on the strip while poor Maddie desperately searched every corner of her mind for an answer. After enjoying her display of discomfort, I finally decided to put her out of her misery.
‘No, Maddie. I think Daniel is grouped under the heading of ‘A Meccano of Men. Let’s pay our bill and get out of here.’ Maddie willingly agreed, having been released from her torture, knowing that there was no scientific basis for my grouping. She could journey on in academic bliss. The waiter took my cash and beseeched me to give him a tip on the grounds of his starving mother in Italy. As I flipped him a coin, I mentally relegated him to the group which suited him best. I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was any real science behind Maddies Menagerie of Men.
I took a last look at the Mack of Men that had managed to stop some women and were engaged in the art of scoring. One guy used his body to both compliment and entrap his target by slowly cornering her into a shop doorway. As I buttoned my jacket, I looked over at the Mastery of Men, who reigned supreme, the married man again caught my eye, and this time, he blew me a kiss. I smiled inwardly and hurriedly caught up with Maddie on the kerb.
I made a mental note to be aware of any Maunders, Macks and Masters that crossed my path in the future.
We grew up together and have little in common because I love to shop and buy great clothes, make-up and accessories. I adore music and men. Maddie, I suspect is using me as a lab rat in some experiment that I’m not aware of.
This evening, she was harping on and on about groups of species and I was just about to go brain dead when a lovely top caught my eye in the Myers window, so I said ‘Oh yes?’ to Maddie and diverted a little off our path to cut across the green to take a closer look. Maddie continued on her theme, barely noticing that I had left her side, until she heard me scream.
In my haste to reach my target and get relief from the ramblings of Maddie, I didn’t notice the group of men prostrated on the ground. I tripped over one, found my footing, stepped on a second, and landed on top of him.
'Oi wash ya doing?' croaked the injured party. The smell of liquor was so strong, if I lit a match, the guy would have been a fireball.
I apologised as I dusted off the invisible dirt, somehow afraid that my clothes would melt on the spot, having come into contact with these low-life’s.
One of drunks struggled to get up and I could see his toothless grin in the dim evening light ‘Give us a proper hug then. Or five bucks.’
As I hurried away from my own embarrassment, Maddie was waiting.
I checked my designer holed stockings for real holes and found none. ‘Wow,’ I said, taking Maddie’s hand to hurry us away ‘That was not pleasant.’
‘They, my friend are known as a Maunder of Men’
‘A what?’
‘A Maunder of Men. A group of beggars or a maunder which is a specific form of begging. It’s late 18th century.’ Maddie’s explanation was so everyday as if one would read it on the back of a weet-bix box that I burst out laughing.
‘You mean to say that there actually names for groups of people as well as animals? I hadn’t quite tuned into the subject earlier Maddie but now I’m listening, especially if you’re talking men. Let’s get a coffee and you can tell me.’
Maddies eyes are larger than life through the magnification of her glasses and her expression of wonderment is quite enchanting ‘I don’t understand what you mean. Why weren’t you tuned in?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s sit down.’ We had arrived on the strip, where the life of Fremantle journeys by foot or wheel. As we walked, we hit pockets of delicious rich mixtures of smells that poured from the cafés and restaurants to lure the passer-by. The aromatic blend of coffee caught our senses and we placed ourselves near the kerb with an idyllic view of life passing us by.
Maddie ordered chai tea while I spoiled myself with a latte and a carrot cake. As we drank, I watched a group of men across the road. They were dressed for Friday night and appeared to be energised. I mean they moved or swayed as if they were dancing to music that wasn’t there. Something was flowing through their group. Maddie’s observation about the Maunder of Men had got to me and I wondered what collective noun these men came under. As women passed by, they crowed or whistled, calling out ‘whas happening?’ They regularly gave each other high fives and knuckle shakes. Eventually, I put down my latte and asked ‘What do you think then?’
‘There are several names for that group, depending where in the world you are. I would have to say the closest one at the moment is, a Mack of Men.’
I watched them in their showy demonstrations, but a group of women who had just occupied the table next to me broke my concentration. I shifted my gaze to them and noticed that all five of them were in their thirties and talking away to each other at the same time. Without hearing what they said, it seemed everyone understood what everyone else was talking about yet, nobody seemed to be listening. Spurts of unanimous laughter rose up from the table followed by competing conversation. What a phenomena I thought as I looked across at Maddie, who for once was smiling. She leant across and discreetly informed me that this particular group is known as a Waffle of Women. I couldn’t have thought of a better name.
‘Why a Mack of Men?’
Mack means smooth operator, a masculine thing, a big truck, manipulative talk, a French kiss, a pimp.’
‘Oh. I see’. Those guys were about male image I suppose but just how many collective groups of men were there? At a table behind Maddie sat three guys in suits who looked rather debonair. One was on his mobile while the other two took in their surroundings with all the arrogance that they could. Given the way they sat and the direction of their noses, anyone would think they were lords of the manor. They looked great in my view.
‘Well what about those guys behind you? Are they Macks? They’re certainly not Maunders’
Maddie swivelled and wrinkled her nose in that way when she appraises anything, man or bacteria. ‘No, definitely not. They are what would be termed as a Mastery of Men. You can see they are skilled, have the upper hand and appear as rulers of their dominion.’
I was busy watching the guy on the phone who was exceptionally cute. Unfortunately, the ring on his left hand told the exact story about the dominion he was in. For a brief moment, our eyes met and he smiled then winked at me. I looked at Maddie who sipped happily on her chai tea. It would seem there are Macks dressed as Masters.
‘Tell me no more about groups of men Maddie. Apart from Waffles of Women, who else is there?’ Maddie’s brow knitted together perplexedly as she calculated the approximate number of groups. ‘Oh, oh I should say any indeterminate number of sub-groups and that without even discussing cross cultural grouping of course.’ Sometimes Maddie is maddening and other times interesting. I inquired about her love life.
‘Are you still seeing that Engineering student?’
‘Oh yes. On and off you know. We’re trying to lay a solid foundation. That’s what Daniel says at any rate. At the moment though he’s working with his fellow students and then spends a great deal of his time on outside EG projects to help him be the best.’
Well Maddie it’s obvious what group of men he comes under.
‘Oh definitely a Mastery. He’ll excel in everything he does.’
‘Actually, I was thinking along some other lines with him.’
Maddie frowned, wrinkled her nose and peered through her thick lenses as she mentally went through the possible groups that her engineering beau could come under and found one other.
‘A Matrimonial of Men’ I mean, Daniel is the marrying type and that’s what we will do once we’re married, according to the 18th century definition…I mean, gosh…Maddie actually trailed off and managed to fidget in her flustered silence. I added to it by shaking my head solemnly. Maddie tilted her glasses across her face as she wrestled with her academic countenance. It is amazing how such things seem to be of tantamount importance to her, and I realised that I could easily pass the evening idly watching life on the strip while poor Maddie desperately searched every corner of her mind for an answer. After enjoying her display of discomfort, I finally decided to put her out of her misery.
‘No, Maddie. I think Daniel is grouped under the heading of ‘A Meccano of Men. Let’s pay our bill and get out of here.’ Maddie willingly agreed, having been released from her torture, knowing that there was no scientific basis for my grouping. She could journey on in academic bliss. The waiter took my cash and beseeched me to give him a tip on the grounds of his starving mother in Italy. As I flipped him a coin, I mentally relegated him to the group which suited him best. I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was any real science behind Maddies Menagerie of Men.
I took a last look at the Mack of Men that had managed to stop some women and were engaged in the art of scoring. One guy used his body to both compliment and entrap his target by slowly cornering her into a shop doorway. As I buttoned my jacket, I looked over at the Mastery of Men, who reigned supreme, the married man again caught my eye, and this time, he blew me a kiss. I smiled inwardly and hurriedly caught up with Maddie on the kerb.
I made a mental note to be aware of any Maunders, Macks and Masters that crossed my path in the future.