Lego People Watch

I like to people watch.

With my seriously antisocial behaviour, I might not be a people person but I still like observing. Watch folks in a bus and imagine how they relate to each other. Or even a lovey-dovey couple doing their weekly shopping in a supermarket. Immediately I'd concoct an entirely improbable story based on their looks, their immediate closeness and the varied contents of their shopping basket.

Hell, one devious suburban witch even hatched plans to cook up an enormous turkey dinner for her cheating husband with a side dish of caesar salad and arsenic-laced wine.

So you can imagine the complex storylines behind my mini Lego street. And yes, I do mean street. Still don't have enough for an entire city unless you count my sadly tragic population of only 9.


Wonder what's gonna happen to us today!
First on the row you have a navy blue apartment complex with the prerequisite gay couple living on the first floor. One fella's a blue-blooded physician from the city ( obviously! ) who's come to hang up his shingle in this inconsequential lil hamlet. Lower ground floor has been converted into a doctor's office. His better half's a zen-like elementary school teacher who's actually secretly a retired secret agent.

Yes. Secret agent.

He also publishes the town paper but that's another story.

Then there's the moody artist in the attic who paints his 'French women' on his balcony on weekdays and spends the weekends drinking it up with his best friend, the doctor.

Occasionally their weekend get-togethers are joined by the grouchy owner of the grocery store next door. Despite plying the skintflint shopkeeper weekly, they still don't get much discount for the fresh vegetables though.

Then you have the antagonistic yet loving father-daughter combo running the auto shop half a block down with the younger slacker son running deliveries for the pizza deal next door. Of course the expert chef making pastas and pizzas - who mastered cooking at the knees of her blessed Italian mama - has the hots for the shy but devastatingly handsome bus driver who comes by every morning for his coffee.

And I've got my Market Street by the way.