Thursday, 10 February 2011

I gave a colleague a lift home...

I gave a colleague a lift home. He told me his brother, who is a shopfitter and flies model aircraft in his spare time, had been picked up by the police whilst waiting for a bus in the early hours and had had no idea why. After four hours in a cell he’d overheard the duty sergeant telling the arresting officers they’d never make a case for loitering at a bus stop and they let him go.

Two children were talking on their way to the primary school. The chubby girl with long blond hair and the elasticated waistband was showing a friend her new glasses:
"Yes, we found the best opticians" she said.
"Which one?" her friend asked.
“Erm, I, I can't remember what it's called. It had a grey sign".
"No, they've got a green sign. I can't remember. Anyway, I'm saying they were good but I'm still waiting for my Playboy case, aren't I?”

A couple were having sex in the back of a plumber's van by the park.

At one of the big houses by the golf course the man who answered the door smelt of Brasso.

I saw a woodpecker trying to make a hole in a telegraph pole on Lea Lane.

Mr Whitwam had cordoned off the driveway of his static caravan with a length of white plastic chain stretched between two traffic cones that had been sprayed silver. He was kneeling on a large foam cushion insert from an old settee while he scraped moss from between his pink herringbone setts. His Jaguar was parked in the road.