I was approached by a stranger in the carpark at the local shops yesterday. He asked me to witness his signing a legal document.
"Sure, no problem", I think I said.
So he signed, and I duly signed in the "witness" area. I started searching through the list of occupations that are permitted to perform the role of witness. That item was also required to be completed on the form.
"What are you looking for?"
"For my occupation. I'm sure that 'teacher' is included in the list." (It was)
"But aren't you a Justice of the Peace?"
"No, I'm not. My dad was. Why do you ask?"
"Because the sign on the back of your car says that you are."
And I realised that he was referring to the "JP-Australia" sticker, which, I thought, identified me as belonging to that elite group of fit and tanned Australians, a rebel, invincible, able and willing to skip across shark-infested and carp-infested waterways at reckless speed with unbelievable skill and gay abandon, with a "devil may care" attitude, laughing death in the face, living only for today, life on the edge, who cares about tomorrow? etc etc. I was one of Hardie’s heroes! I was one of the cognoscenti; I was to be seen and revered as (drum roll, please) "a wind surfer"!!!
And he thought I was a JP.
I felt quite deflated, actually.
