We are walking by the water. It’s the weekend and everyone is determined to make good use of the sunny day whether they like it or not. An elderly woman melts into her picnic rug. Families pick sweaty cling film from sandwiches.
“Isn’t this nice,” people say, trying to convince each other this was a good use of time, rather than sitting in the cinema. Enjoying the air conditioning with a bucket of popcorn and Coke and trying to watch Ridley Scott use up all his directing talent to convince us Paul Mescal could be plausibly Italian. Or a man who hasn’t eaten a roast dinner at 3pm. But that’s showbiz, baby!
I am teaching my boyfriend new words and phrases to help him adapt to Australian life. Like “sparrow’s fart” for a time very early in the morning. It took him a while to get his head around “not here to f**k spiders”. It means to get the job done. As in, if you’re at the pub and someone asks you if you want beer, it would be appropriate to say, “well, mate, we’re not here to f**k spiders, are we?”
My dad has been known to change it to “we’re not here to fornicate with arachnids” in polite company. That’s just the kind of family of sophisticates we are.
I tell him the correct way to answer someone’s impertinent questions is “nunya” – as in “nunyabloodybusiness!”. This leads to what we call busybodies. The great Australian term is “stickybeak”, as in someone who sticks their beak into other people’s business. As a noun it’s a great sin. Kids are often told to “stop being such a stickybeak” for trying to find out and use information against others. Australians will say they’re less prone to gossip, but really it could be that we’re just more self-centred and aren’t interested in others.
The verb version of the word, however, is fine. Having “a stickybeak” out the window or at fallen power lines or at your neighbour’s missus throwing everything out on the lawn for the third time that month is allowed, encouraged even. For you are just a hapless witness, taking a passing interest in the matter, rather than mining someone for dirt so you can talk about them behind their back later.
My boyfriend cannot think of the Irish alternative to “having a sticky beak” aside from “having a nose”, which isn’t a direct translation. He suggested that there might not be one because it’s such a natural instinct, Irish people don’t have to think about it, like breathing.
As we were walking we came across not one but two set-up signs covered with roses asking someone to marry them. Given that bits of MDF and neon signs usually don’t mate for life, we assumed at some point a couple would appear and one of them would ask the other to put up with them forever.
Given we are both Irish, we immediately sat down to have a good old stickybeak. We were essentially staking out two strange couples’ proposals. As were a good number of people in that park. That’s the risk of proposing in public, you might have to get down on bended knee while a five-year-old’s birthday party is blaring Baby Shark right next to you. Or in this case, the bodybuilder who stripped off to his Speedos to shoot videos of him posing with weights getting in the backdrop of one of the happiest moments of your life.
So we sat. And waited. What if the proposee said no? What if one of the proposees noticed that their set-up with fake flowers and some Dealz-looking red crepe paper rolled out as carpet was not as nice as the other one. The one with real flowers, professionally decorated candles and a personalised neon sign. You don’t want to have the second-best simultaneous proposal.
Finally our patience was rewarded when a couple showed up to the nicer set. Would she say yes? Would she feel slightly smug her boyfriend sprang for the more spenny proposal?
We actually couldn’t tell. She didn’t look surprised at all. They both held hands awkwardly while a professional photographer “candidly” snapped photos of them about 10cm away. The photographer directed the man to go down on his knee a few times until they had the right shot. The woman didn’t smile once unless it was for a photo.
The proposal planner sprang out of her branded van to pack up the rose petals after they left. We realised it was all about getting a photo for social media. It wasn’t a romantic gesture, it was content.
We make various statements to each other about how voyeurism is ruining modern culture. As we hid behind a tree, stickybeaking at two strangers getting engaged.