Munzee

About to walk across the road from the bank I stopped in my tracks to observe an all-weather clothed individual, male, standing under a No-Standing/Parking sign as if recording it, looking up, head down writing as if logging, looking up, rubbing something onto a corner of it as if testing the paint.

Crikey, an audit of street signs (at long last!). I jumped to the conclusion this activity was answer to my fondest wish taking photographs in town that the authorities responsible deliver the population from the shocking visual pollution of signage. It and rubbish bins in the picture every time you turn around make me restive:)

I saw he was going from sign to sign. M, the Bottle-o, came by having seen me watching the inexplicable (to M) activity and he clckked his tongue in disapproval. His perception was "He shouldn't be putting those stickers on the street signs. He'll be in trouble. The police will soon get him. Anyway, they'll wash off in the rain after a few times. He shouldn't be doing that anyway."

Years ago I reported to the police a psychotic man dressed in snowy white boiler suit with a tool kit attempting to dismantle the apparatus of a set of traffic lights. The thought occurred to me the behaviour of the individual 'looked like' that observation. I went to one and the next sign after the sign 'auditor' had ambled on (writing and looking around). Here is the sticker Morris was referring to. Ha ha. Morris must have trailed him earlier and craned his neck upwards (Morris is a good deal shorter than I am) to see what the go was. I held my mobile over my own head and snapped a view of the sticker to properly read it.

I stood and watched the fellow. He was engrossed in his seeming work.Around his waist I noticed he was wearing a sturdy box-like leather or vinyl container secured by a strap. Who knows what might be in it. The brand-newness of his sturdy clothing, but especially baseball cap was not a town council get-up and I approached him to ask was he doing an audit of the street signs.

"There's not enough" he said. Well, he's mad I immediately concluded and shoved that idea to the back of my mind so it could fall off the precipice of prejudice.

"Some people think there's too many," he continued.

A. I've an eye for an actor B. Not that I know every person in town this was an outside contractor and C. I then noticed no ID on his clothing.

"So are you doing an audit of the signs?"

He looked, contemplative, at a far-off point, back at me and raised his left hand free of his notes, and tipped it side to side rapidly at me as we do to indicate balance of probability (6 of one, half a dozen of the other).

"Sort of," I said to agree with him amicably.

He was pleased and nodded his head, parroting 'sort of'.

I called into the Council and asked the relevant questions...street signs...audit...no, said the receptionist, nothing to do with Council. She got a laugh when I described it looked irregular and reflected on the unfortunate man who tried to decommission a set of traffic lights (not much anybody can do to traffic signs). Or seemed to want to if he thought there weren't enough. Seemed my fondest wish for tourism wasn't going to come true.

A young woman was hanging a banner outside the library.

The Ride, it announced the film of the journey of the West Australian riders who took to the highway on special quad bikes to visit the sites of accidents that disabled them. "When?" I asked. It was ten minutes to the first screening. I'd been working all day since sunrise weeding and baling garden debris. I could pay $5 and sit for a cause; supporting the film maker Sandra Cook and the spreading the message of their feat. The woman in the Council wasn't worried the town had wandering in its sunshine someone whose motivation it might be to canvass for more @#%& street signs.

The Ride is a movie many might like to see some stage when it comes through their town on its Australian tour or by purchasing a DVD. There is a website for those interested.

I passed up a photo of the cutest little white curly-haired (gleaming with shine, really) dog tethered on the flat tray of a parked truck main street so as to load this pic I took in case it was needed for purposes of adding my voice to street sign control. I tell you the sacrifice is considerable...and of the banner promoting The Ride.

I'm back blipping. The next morning I caught the bus for Adelaide on schedule for a few days soujourn. Last night, my host gone Sleepland, I got around to researching the source of the sticker.

A geocaching game!? That kicked off in Texas!? I see. I wonder how much dosh the patent holders are making out of merchandising the clobber (baseball caps, t-shirts etc) I found listed for sale online. Munzee hunters, head for Bordertown in South Australia as long as you come in peace. Check out the street signs.

Apparently, they download an app onto their phone and it loads as I read it the co-ordinates of the location of the stickers into a central collection data base. I hope Munzee's intended for international goodwill and world peace.