Untitled from Kevin Boniface on Vimeo.
The man who regularly shouts at the top of his voice at 05.30 in the morning from the flats on the corner of Branch Street was screaming instead this morning.
An unusual silver/grey fibreglass box has been left on Park Drive South. It’s about a foot square and on the lid it says “This is it Martin” in black marker pen.
At the newsagent's, a customer was telling the Asian proprietress about some neighbours who'd made him a curry, “They had a two week holiday in Pakistan, or India, I can’t remember which—one or the other. Anyway, when they got back they invited me and the missus round for a curry and oh! It were bang-on! It really was superb!”
Outside, two school mums were talking as they picked their way around the torn mattress, the divan bed base and the purple vest top in the icy puddle: “You’re walking like a mong” said one. “I know!" said the other "I need a wee desperately”.
A man with a leather jacket, blue tracksuit bottoms, black trainers, a bulbous nose, a grey moustache and a black baseball cap came out of The Caledonian Café and belched loudly. The smell of liver and onions drifted past.
A saw a rat run across Heaton Road.
The Skip Hire man always calls me "lad" to me but I'm pretty sure I'm older than he is.
I saw my abusive neighbour again today, he was telling a learner driver to "Fuck off!”