Sitting on stool in shade waiting for Am. Scruffy looking man ambles by - stops - looks at me. “What are you collecting for, Legacy or something?” “Not a thing.” “Oh.”
About 20 minutes later Mr. Scruffy came back. “You’re a bookie!” he announced. “No, I’m a tourist.” “A tourist, eh?” He smiled knowingly, revealing a gap next to his gold filled incisor.
Another note. I have no idea what it refers to, but looks amusing:
Dogs gather; kids scatter.
Here’s a couple of computer type cartoons -


A bookie?! Please, it's "turf accountant."
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