Friday, 30 September 2011
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Thursday, 14 July 2011
5.30am: A man who couldn't walk straight passed me in the street. He was wearing plastic rimmed glasses and carrying a copy of The Guardian under his arm. He staggered slightly, bounced off the wall with his shoulder and spilled Pepsi Max down his top.
In the park, a dozen or so people were playing loud music in the bandstand. They waved and shouted “Morning mate!” as I walked past. When I replied they all collapsed in fits of laughter.
I was emptying a post box when the man in the garden behind it threw a large snail over his shoulder without looking; it bounced off the side of my head and set off across the road with half its shell missing.
On Hayfield Road, a woman opened the window of her front room and asked whether I’d help her and her husband to climb out. She said they'd locked themselves in.
Out of the five people Inside the motorcycle showroom, I was the only one without grey hair, a moustache and no beard. I went over to the counter where a grey haired man with a moustache and no beard broke off briefly from his conversation ("...she makes a lovely sound, especially when you open her up a bit...") to tell me that I was "looking for parts" (which I wasn't) He pointed to an adjoining door and said "through there mate, they'll look after you".
The signs to the car-park at the enormous new church say "Customer Parking".
Saturday, 9 July 2011
On my way into work at 5.30am, I passed a house from which the theme tune from the TV show Countdown...
On my way into work at 5.30am, I passed a house from which the theme tune from the TV show Countdown was blaring out into the street. A police helicopter was hovering directly overhead.
A colleague told me he'd been embarrassed the other day while delivering a package to a sex shop on his round; he'd tripped up a step and knocked over a stand of dildos.
Sunday, 3 July 2011
A woman answered the door in Heights Road. "44 today!" she exclaimed as I handed over her parcel. "I'm behaving very irresponsibly for a Grandma! Well, I will be later, I'm gonna get hammered!" She glanced up at my hat and her eyes widened in surprise as she took in a sharp breath; "Oh my God!" she said, "I don't believe it! Cool hat!" and she dropped the parcel and ran back inside the house. "Wait there!" She shouted, "This is such an amazing coincidence, I've got one exactly like it!" I could hear her rummaging around in the front room, "It's here somewhere! Wait there!" I waited on the step for a few seconds until the woman shouted again "Here it is! Here it is!" and came running back to the door. "Tada!" She exclaimed, jazz hands either side of her face. On her head was a hat that resembled mine in so much as it was a hat but apart from that it couldn't have been more different. Mine is a structured cap in light blue/green check with a rigid peak and an adjustable band and hers was a floppy, plain brown beret type with a row of five metal studs around the front of the small, soft peak. I feigned amazement, wished her a happy birthday and went back to my van. On the other side of the road, a hefty teen girl with dyed red hair, black satin tracksuit top, black tights, black jersey skirt that didn't entirely cover her backside, and a pair of disintegrating grey Ugg boots was violently shoving a spotty teen boy outside the newsagents shop, "You gave me one-pound-fucking-twenty. Fuck off!" she yelled.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Saturday, 11 June 2011
A crow was pecking at the basketball sized piece of scrunched up fish and chip paper in the road. A car approached and the crow picked up the paper in its beak and flew off over the houses with it. Later, on the same street, I saw a woman in a spangley lilac sari and headscarf ensemble hoovering the pavement outside her house with big upright Dyson.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Thursday, 2 June 2011
At the next house, the door was answered by a man in his thirties with shaving foam all over his face.
Another full hour into the delivery and somebody else with a broken arm answered a door. This time it was a middle aged man, his sweater bulging over the bad arm with the empty sleeve dangling at his side.
*This has happened before: see November 2nd 2010
Friday, 27 May 2011
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
"When the bell rang and we were playing football, we'd just ignore it. Did you do that?"
"No, not really."
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
The man in the black Astra was blocking the street while he made a phone call. He broke off briefly from his call to wind down his window and shout "You fat fucking bitch!" to the woman in the red Saab at the front of the queue of oncoming traffic. She didn't move because she couldn't; he was blocking the road and she had a queue of traffic behind her. He called the Saab woman a fat bitch a couple more times before he finished his call and then sped off, shouting "You fat bitch!" a final time as he went.
Saturday, 7 May 2011
Friday, 29 April 2011
Thursday, 21 April 2011
At work I was involved in a discussion about the provenance of the eighties metal band, Saxon. John was wondering whether it was legitimate to claim them as a Huddersfield band because he’d heard they were originally from Denby Dale. Another colleague said he thought that although Denby Dale has a Huddersfield postcode, it falls under the administrative jurisdiction of Barnsley*. Another colleague said he was at school in Huddersfield with a member of the band’s nephew.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
The sun has been shining. People are squinting up their eyes and shielding the screens of their phones at the bus stop. It's hot; I counted seventy-three discarded drinks containers on my way into work this morning. An average of one every thirty-four meters.
A teenage boy in T-shirt and tracksuit was running to the mosque at 6am.
Someone has written “HeRB” on the Mill Street post box.
The milkman's two young assistants were talking as they waited on the curb for the van.
“She asked for nine semi, I put twelve in and now she wants thirteen” said the short chubby white one.
“Why?” asked the short chubby black one.
“Because she’s a greedy bitch” said the white one.
I saw a man with a green 'Atari' T-shirt drop the cardboard packaging from his toy machine gun onto the pavement by the bench at the corner of John William Street — where the woman with the short skirt used to feed the pigeons.
Inside the motorcycle showrooms, a sales assistant was recommending a bike cleaning product to a customer.
"We had a leak from a can of it a while back and, when we'd cleaned it up, the floor was sparkling—white as snow. Amazing stuff."
"I think I'd better get some of that then" said the customer.
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
I saw a man's brown lace-up Clarks shoe on the pavement outside the house with the ring of miniature standing stones on the lawn. The other of the pair was twenty yards down the road at the bus stop where the chubby goth boy was being chased by a wasp.
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Friday, 18 March 2011
Sunday, 13 March 2011
In the office, Dan was telling Chris about the curries he'd eaten over the weekend:
Saturday, 5 March 2011
I arrived at work early so I made a cigarette and stood on the pavement to smoke it. After a minute or so, a Blue Tit flew out from a tree and landed on the wing mirror of the Citroën Picasso parked in front of me. It hopped down onto the bottom lip of the mirror-casing and perched there facing the glass, appearing to admire its reflection. After a few seconds, the bird flew to the mirror of the next parked car and did the same thing, and then again onto the third car before it disappeared back among the shrubs in the church gardens. I was quite excited and asked the man on the corner, who was checking the soles of his shoes for dog shit, whether he'd seen it, but he hadn't.
I was on somebody's door step on the new estate filling out a 'failure to deliver' notice. Above me, a wall-mounted speaker repeatedly blared out a pre-recorded message; a man with a southern accent saying "Warning, you are being recorded by a security camera". It only stopped after I'd finished and left.
Yesterday, I said hello to a man in his garden and he completely blanked me. He was there again today, so I said hello again. This time he glanced up briefly to say "Now then" before continuing raking his leaves.
I asked a woman in her early thirties whether she'd take a parcel for her next door neighbour. She refused, saying "I don't really know them and they're just renting so...you know".
I commented on the fluffiness of a dog to its owner as she passed me in the street. The woman stopped but the dog started towards me, growling. The woman yanked on the dog's lead and said "They're not right friendly aren't Chows. If he's ever out in the garden, you'd best not go in".
There's been a bouquet of flowers (still in cellophane) on the doorstep of number 67 all week. The man who lives there must know about them because he's been out working in his garden every day.
A window cleaner was up his ladder at no.94. I shouted hello as I walked down the garden path but he didn't respond. When I came back down the path, he'd climbed down, and was walking across the lawn to get his buckets. He didn't look up from under the peak of his woolly cap as he passed but he slapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other several times and said "'seems to be getting fucking colder". I think he was talking to me because there was nobody else around.
I saw an old colleague in the street. He told me a mutual friend I hadn't seen for years had died in an road accident. "I were at me dad's, polishing me boots when I heard" he said.
Two young men in hooded tops were fastening some blue flashing lights to the roof of a car. They each had an upturned bucket to stand on so they could reach.
At Hinchliffe Ltd the receptionist was on the phone.
“I’ve got James from SL Recruitment on the line...Do you want anything to do with him? If I tell him you're in a meeting he’ll just keep ringing me and...ok...” Click “Hello James, he says he doesn’t need anything at the moment so I should give it a good long while before you ring again...that’s alright. Bye bye.” Click.
Back in town, a man on crutches with his cap on backwards was repeatedly gobbing on the path in the church gardens while his girlfriend (baby blue tracksuit and ponytail) was doubled over laughing at him. The man swung for her with his crutch but hit a pigeon instead.