A WAITING GAME.

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 192, 15 August 1925, Page 10

A WAITING GAME.

FRIDAY NIGHT SHOPPING.

WHEN HUSBAND ACCOMPANIES WIFE.

The statement credited to an officer of the American fleet that he had never in all his travels seen so many people in one street as he saw in Queen Street, should make us realise that Auckland is "some burg." But perhaps he really didn't mean it.

Still quite a lot of people can gather in our main thoroughfares, and one of the sights of Aucklaud is Karangahapc Road on a Friday evening, when the business of shopping is at its height. If it happens to be "sale" week then it is almost impossible to move, so dense is the mass of people shuffling along the footpaths. It is a great sight. Anywhere between half-past six and seven o'clock the shoppers begin to arrive. They come in trams, motor cars, motor buses, they arrive on foot ana from all directions, and all roads lead to Newton. The elderly women, grandmas, and mothers, usually put in an appearance first. They carry baskets, oldfashioned kits, some push perambulators, and all try to get their shopping done before the crowd becomes very congested. The elderly people do.not have a great deal of purchases to make, most of their expenditure being groceries, meat, and vegetables, and by eight o'clock they are generally homeward bound.

But at eight o'clock the scene is totally different. It is then that the crowd has increased till it is almost impossible to moA'e along. Girls in their teens, and dressed like Parisian mannequins are accompanied by young men with the latest cut in coats, and trousers, the width of the legs of which may be only nine inches or may be wide enough to give those of the visiting sailors anything up to half-a-foot and a beating. These modern girls do not carry baskets; they prefer tastefully decorated bags — they look more like kits —in whichever hand does not happen to be gripping their male companion. Young men and their wives, you can always tell the married ones because they are not arm in arm, invariably wear top coats and carry a basket. The husband has the look of a man who has lost his wages, which of course is only as»it should be. He has accompanied his wife on a shopping expedition on other Friday nights, and knows what is in front of him. Unconsciously, and from force of habit, immediately he reaches the first of the drapers' shops he swerves to the outer edge of the footpath and *akes up a stand on the kerbing. He has made, no mistake, because with a nod of the head the wife disappears inside the shop. He is not alone, All along the kerbing as far as the eye can see hundreds of men are lined up like soldiers at attention. The length of their stay in one spot varies, it may be five or ten minutes, again it may be an hour, it all depends upon the purchases being made by the lady in the shop. With 'half-closed eyes the "moreporks," as they have been called, resign themselves to a long wait.

Suddenly a lady emerges from a shop doorway, and like a flash there is a vacant space on the kerbing. The other "moreporks" cast a look of envy upon the bird which has flown, but there is a semblance of a smile when the lady remarks: "I couldn't match that piece of satin, Harold, although the girl showed mc every roll of satin in the shop. Wait a minute, I'll try in here," and again she disappears, and again Harold backs to the edge and joins the line. It is an exciting game —for the lady. But Harold has the satisfaction of knowing that he is not the only one playing, and that if he should go for a stroll, hoping to warm his cold feet, he will lose his position. Not only that, but if he happens to be absent from his stand when wifey comes out of her seventh shop, he will be in trouble. Perhaps the wife does not intend to do much shopping; wants to get one or two little items, that's all. And hubby, after spending about ten minutes in the company of his wife out of something like two and a-half hours, finds, when he climbs on hoard the tramcar homeward bound, that he will have to put some of the parcels under the seat—there is not enough room on his knees. But you will see him there again on the kerbstone in Newton next Friday night.