Saturday, 9 October 2010

I could see a small man walking towards me in the park...


Branch Street from Kevin Boniface on Vimeo.

I could see a small man walking towards me in the park. He was singing loudly to himself and occasionally performing a kind of shimmy. He stopped briefly to take a drag of his cigarette and saw me walking towards him. He began coughing in what seemed like a fake way and when he started up walking again, he did so with a swagger and an expressionless face.

Trizzle and N.Smith have both written their names on the the May Street pouch box.

On the Fearnley estate I knocked at a house to deliver a registered parcel. A man answered. He was carrying a little boy in a duffle coat, mittens and a woollen hat, “Oh thanks mate, that’s great I’ve been waiting for that. Excellent”. He put down the little boy to sign for the package and a thin women in a vest top peered around the door. Her eyes widened, “Is that your new phone? Fucking hell you jammy cunt! Mine took fucking ages. Fucking hell!”

According to the large A1 laminated poster entitled “The Toby Grill Hall Of Fame,” Mick has served 994 drinks and Kerry over 400 meals so far this week.

A man who looked a bit like Tony Hancock stopped me in Albion Drive to ask me whether I knew why there was so much “bird muck” on the roofs of the bungalows there.

I asked Mr Dyson at Westfield Farm for a signature and when I produced my PDA he said “Good grief” and put on some spectacles.
Later, on Hall Lane, a man with a Blue-tooth ear piece and a hi-viz vest pulled up in a large pick-up truck, jumped out and began dismantling the red, white and yellow plastic safety barriers that surrounded a recently infilled hole in the road. When I passed, he looked up and said “It’s a right out of the way place this isn’t it. Fucking hell.”