A visit to Con
Matt has worn through the soles of his good pair of shoes, so he asked me to take them over to the local shoe-fixing man, because they are that good. He would rather fix than replace them.
The local shoe-fixing man is Con. He is not a shoe-fixing man like the ones at Mr Minit or Shufix, the chain stores you see in the middle of your local shopping centres where you get your keys cut. Con is a cobbler. He doesn't just fix shoes - he makes them! He has a little shop on the main drag of Hurlstone Park. The walls are covered in shoe moulds and huge sheets of leather in all different colours. The little counter at the front is cluttered with cobblers tools; to the side of the counter is an old-school, unelectrified sewing machine. Pinned up around the place are yellowed newspaper clippings recalling past Greek soccer victories. Between the months of September and March, there is a little stand at the door of the shop, from which he sells herbs and other plant cuttings from his garden. He also has a large collection of cats. I'm guessing none of them are desexed. When the herbs come out in the spring, there is also a new collection of kittens that plays among the pots at the front of the shop.
Con kept me in the shop for 10 minutes to give me marriage advice, to give me investment advice and to tell me about his history, how he moved from Thessaloniki to Earlwood to Hurlstone Park and has four kids and five grandkids. It was like going back in time - a shop which probably hadn't changed much since he started it in the 60s, when business owners knew all their clients personally and you didn't just visit shops to buy things, but to call in on your neighbours. I didn't realise how much I was missing all those times I have gone to Mr Minit.
The local shoe-fixing man is Con. He is not a shoe-fixing man like the ones at Mr Minit or Shufix, the chain stores you see in the middle of your local shopping centres where you get your keys cut. Con is a cobbler. He doesn't just fix shoes - he makes them! He has a little shop on the main drag of Hurlstone Park. The walls are covered in shoe moulds and huge sheets of leather in all different colours. The little counter at the front is cluttered with cobblers tools; to the side of the counter is an old-school, unelectrified sewing machine. Pinned up around the place are yellowed newspaper clippings recalling past Greek soccer victories. Between the months of September and March, there is a little stand at the door of the shop, from which he sells herbs and other plant cuttings from his garden. He also has a large collection of cats. I'm guessing none of them are desexed. When the herbs come out in the spring, there is also a new collection of kittens that plays among the pots at the front of the shop.
Con kept me in the shop for 10 minutes to give me marriage advice, to give me investment advice and to tell me about his history, how he moved from Thessaloniki to Earlwood to Hurlstone Park and has four kids and five grandkids. It was like going back in time - a shop which probably hadn't changed much since he started it in the 60s, when business owners knew all their clients personally and you didn't just visit shops to buy things, but to call in on your neighbours. I didn't realise how much I was missing all those times I have gone to Mr Minit.