A man had fallen asleep in the driver’s seat of a silver MG whilst reading a copy of the Daily Star with the headline "PREGNANT POSH PRAYS FOR A PRINCESS".
Yesterday, Steve had a large tear in the back of his trousers exposing a good six inches of his leg and his blue underpants. I pointed it out to him and he said he already knew but was far to busy to worry about it. He was wearing them again today.
I knocked at a house to ask whether they’d mind taking in a parcel for next door. A tall man in his 50s with grey hair and a paint splattered sweatshirt answered: “I don’t talk to him. Kick it down the street”.
A red Ford Ka drove past at high speed.
On Mr Haigh's garden wall today: A Ewbank carpet sweeper with a broken handle, a handful of straw, a television set, a tin of dog food (half-empty and wrapped in polythene), two Jerry cans and a three foot square wooden crate filled with cooking pots and utensils. He came out to meet me and I mentioned how windy it was. “It's always windy up here lad" said Mr Haigh "Up here's the windiest place in the country. That’s how come they put all them turbines up. It's the windiest in Britain and Britain’s the windiest in Europe so it must be the windiest place in Europe round here”.
I found a A Brief Illustrated Guide to Understanding Islam in a puddle on Fitzwilliam Street.
I knocked at a house whilst on a delivery I haven't done for six years. I remembered the woman who answered the door because of her distinctive way of applying make-up: thickly and sort of flumpy so that she looks a bit like she's made out of marshmallow. On my way out, I also remembered that her garden gate opens inwards, even though it looks as though it should open outwards.
I saw the red Ford Ka again, still speeding but going the other way.
A man with thick, plastic rimmed specs, a hi-viz anorak and a flat cap pulled down so hard that it looked like a tweed beanie, stopped me to ask whether I knew a friend of his who had worked at the post office in the 80s. I said I didn't.
A bit further down the street another man in a hi-viz anorak asked me whether I knew one of his friends.
"What does he look like?" I said.
"What did he look like" the man corrected me, "he died eight years ago."
I saw the red Ford Ka again. It had been abandoned half on the pavement with its near-side front wing smashed into a wall.