Sunday, 12 December 2010

On my way into work at 5.30am a young woman in a frock coat...

Kirkburton from Kevin Boniface on Vimeo.

On my way into work at 5.30am, a young woman in a frock coat shouted to me from across the street, “Postman Pat! My daughter hates you!”

When I nearly lost my footing on an icy pavement, the old man in the cardigan and the scarf said “It’s like a bottle for you isn’t it lad? Mind how you go.”

I was on her doorstep when a woman came round the corner and said hello. She startled me and I jumped. “You’re like me with your nerves” she said.

I saw Rod Singleton in a bobble hat, chipping ice from his driveway with a spade. He said the weathermen are talking out of their fucking arses when they tell us it’s going to get warmer next week.

When I slipped on the path of his neighbour’s house, a man who looked a bit like he was from the 1970s told me “Normally he cleans his path; he’s a taxi driver. It’s shocking is that for his wife.”

At a house on Frederick Street, an elderly man with a florid combover and one of those zip-up, rib-knit raglan cardigans with the suede elbow patches said, “I’ve lived here for forty year and never seen a single person come down here with a bit of salt. It’s disgusting!”

I was emptying a post box when a woman in a big black coat came round the corner and crashed her buggy into my ankles. She didn’t say anything or even look up, she just reversed a bit and went round me.

A tall, slim woman in her mid-forties with a dyed black bob, knee length boots, and skinny jeans was walking up Moor End Road past a large snow sculpture of a cock and some balls. Arms outstretched, face raised up towards the sky and eyes shut tight, she sang along loudly to Lady Gaga on her mp3 player.