Tuesday, 2 November 2010

An old man was cleaning egg from his front door...


Lockwood ll from Kevin Boniface on Vimeo.

An old man was cleaning egg from his front door. He told me some vandals had thrown it at the house on Halloween. He said he’d like to pin them down by the throat with the handle of his brush and stamp on it.
At a house on Yew Tree Avenue, a bald man of about sixty wearing motorcycle leathers and a bluetooth ear-piece said “Hold on John” and made a “Do I need to sign for it?” sign by pretending to write in the air in front of his face with an imaginary pen. I made a sign for “no” by shaking my head from side to side and handed over the parcel. The man gave me an emphatic thumbs up and carried on his bluetooth conversation with John, “...the thing is mate...”

An old lady whose light blue fine knit cardigan exactly matched the colour of both her garage door and her meter housing box was very pleased with her parcel of garden bulbs, she said it was “just the right size”.

Twice in succession during my parcel delivery, the door was answered by a middle-aged woman with a broken arm.

The German Shepherd in the garden at 62 Mill Street seemed keen to get at me. It was stood on its hind legs at the gate barking and growling incessantly. The fur on its back was on end and it didn’t take its eyes off me as I delivered to the neighbouring houses. Eventually, I had to attempt to deliver some mail to the dog’s house. As I approached, it became apoplectic, furiously barking and baring its teeth with rage. A thin woman with a blonde perm and skinny jeans opened the door of the house, ran up to the dog and grabbed it by the collar. She pulled it down from the gate but it struggled loose and leapt back up, bristling furiously in a distorted frenzy of ill-intent. The woman made a second attempt to grab the dog, this time she managed to keep hold long enough for me to pass her her mail. “Thank you!” she said, in an eastern european accent, then she added “She is very friendly dog”.

There was a rusty framed photograph of a baby in the garden at 36 Mill Street.

I was queueing in the Co-op to buy a new jar of peanut butter and some Mini Chedders when the woman on the till shouted to a colleague: “Lisa, would you class this as quiet?” Lisa broke off from her customer and briefly glanced around the shop, “Umm... yeah, I reckon”. My till lady shouted back to Lisa “Ooh good, I need a wee”.

I saw another headless pigeon corpse. This one was on Yews Tree Avenue near the junction with Moor End Crescent.