Thursday, 24 March 2011

I saw a young couple in the town centre early this morning



Young couple in the town centre early this morning at 6am. Him: camp lisp, tight T-shirt, arms folded across his chest and his jeans turned up above the ankle. Her: very tall, very blonde, hot pants, cork wedge sandals. As I passed I overheard the man say "I've got to take Sammy's rabbit to get its claws clipped". They headed off towards the market place where the stalls were being set up and, a half minute or so later, a chorus of lewd shouts come up from that direction.

I shouted to the woman in the pink turtle neck and grey gilet who was valeting her Peugeot 107 but she couldn't hear me above Michael Jackson's Bad on the car stereo. When I eventually attracted her attention she looked flustered and embarrassed. She apologised and said she'd been in a world of her own.

The man in the bobble hat and the plastic rimmed glasses was staring at me as I emptied the pillar box. I glanced up and let on. He was picking his nose vigorously. He didn't acknowledge me but continued staring and picking. After a few seconds, I could still feel him staring so I looked up again. This time the man glanced down quickly and started to examine the bogey he was rolling between his thumb and forefinger. I slammed the box door shut and dragged the sack across the pavement. As I loaded it into the van, I noticed the man was still staring at me but had now started picking at the other nostril. He was prodding around up there, tipping his head on one side to get a good purchase and the only time he took his eyes off me was to inspect the end of his finger. I got into my van just as the man's bus arrived: Stotts ...taking people to places.

The garden wall at No.27 is now a pile of rubble after a bus crashed into it the other day. The bus company have erected a "Temporary Bus Stop" next to it.

The spare wheel cover of the Suzuki Grand Vitara on the driveway at No.47 is decorated with a psychedelic picture of a native American Indian standing next to a rainbow while a large 'starburst' sun rises behind his head like a halo. The car's owner was in his garden wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off denim shorts to strim around the two small white painted boulders on his lawn.

On my way home, I passed a man in his 50s. He was wearing a long heavy overcoat, a woollen scarf and black leather shoes. The next person I passed was a young man in his 20s who was wearing a T-shirt, knee length cotton shorts, no socks and flip flops.

Friday, 18 March 2011

There was a house brick wrapped in silver foil...


There was a house brick wrapped in silver foil and two metal desert spoons on the bench on Fitzwilliam Street yesterday. This morning, the spoons had gone but the house brick was still there.

A colleague was re-attaching the bumper of his van with some cable ties. I asked him if he could spare a couple to firm up the elastic band repair I'd made on my van door last week. It didn't work and in the end I knocked the bent piece back into place by hitting it quite hard with a hammer.

Julie from the canteen was outside smoking a cigarette. She told me that two people had ordered poached eggs. She said she hates making poached eggs and the thought of having to go back inside and do it was ruining her cigarette break.

A man in an anorak was leaning over his fence smoking a roll-up. He asked me whether I had any mail for him. I told him I had to do the estate first and he said he'd hang on for me. An hour-and-a-half later I came off the estate and he was still there, leaning on the fence, smoking a roll-up.

A border Collie had been barking, upsetting ornaments and head-butting the window of the front room of the first house on the cul-de-sac ever since I'd pushed the mail under the shed door (the owner asked me not to use the letterbox because the dog tears up the mail). When I got to No.8, the owner, a man in a big quilted coat and aviator shades, wound down the window of his black mk5 Honda Prelude with red rims and blacked-out rear windows, winked at me and said "Have you got owt for me mate?" I handed him his mail and he said "Sweet mate. Nice one."

At No.12, the large Polish man with the paintbrush moustache who pulls his tracksuit bottoms up too high (they go right up his arse crack) had been pruning next door's overhanging hypericum using an electric carving knife. Now, he was talking to another neighbour, a young Asian man in a white hooded top who was walking an aggressive looking boxer dog. When I passed them, the dog saw me and nearly pulled him over, jerking him around 180 degrees. The boxer's barking sent the collie at No.2 into a frenzy and it jumped onto the window sill with all four feet, fur all squashed up against the glass. It fell off again in quite a comical fashion but continued to bark undaunted.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

In the office, Adam was telling us about the curries he'd eaten over the weekend



In the office, Adam was telling Nathan about the curries he'd eaten over the weekend:
"Balti Friday night, Pathia Saturday night and on Sunday I went round to a mate's house and we had a nice Rogan Josh. Not a bad weekend."
“Blimey, I bet you're back on the fruit now! Mind you, I suppose they're not too bad for you, curries, are they?" Said Nathan.
"Depends what you fire in with ‘em, doesn't it kid?" said Adam without looking up from his work. He was standing on a box slotting letters into the top row of his frame (he's not particularly short but he says it makes his arm ache otherwise).

On my way out to my delivery, I saw a red kite (the bird kind) drifting along the tree line above the road.

A woman with a picture of an alien on her sweatshirt was walking her two boxer dogs. As I approached, the dogs started snarling and barking at me. Without looking up, the woman shouted "Shut up! It's a man, not a martian!"

I slipped on a flight of greasy green yorkstone steps. I managed to grab the railing and ended up at the bottom, lying on my back with my feet on the patio. I was slightly winded but hadn’t done any serious damage. I told the owner about it. "Are they slippy?" he said and handed me a mis-delivered letter from the day before.

At the sheltered housing on the estate, an old woman with a grey perm, faded blue anorak and american tan tights was putting out her wheelie bin. It was decorated with a large stripy orange and green sticker that said Pimp My Bin in a graffiti style font.

On my way down to the farm, I saw a fresh looking blue tit corpse in the middle of the lane. On my way back up five minutes later, it had gone.

Someone has written Retard in the dirt on the side of old Mr Richardson's new Honda CR-V.

A rabbit ran across the road in front of me in exactly the same place as it had the day before.

My van door broke and I mended it with some red elastic bands.

On the estate, a boy of about five was playing on a scooter in the street. "Are you going to my house?" He said. I asked him where he lived and he pointed to the house I was going to next. "Yes" I said. He threw down his scooter and ran inside shouting "Wait there!" Moments later, I saw him through the window of the front room wrestling an agitated Jack Russell terrier from the back of the settee, then I heard a door slam and he came running back outside. "It's our dog" he said, "I had to lock him in, he hates postmans".

Saturday, 5 March 2011

I arrived at work early so I made a cigarette and stood on the pavement to smoke it...



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, it 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 to have seen this and asked the man on the corner who was checking the soles of his shoes for dog shit whether he had, but he hadn't.

I was on a doorstep on the new estate filling in a 'Failure to deliver' notice. Above me, a wall-mounted speaker repeatedly announced in a southern accent: "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 the 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 No.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 up 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.

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 and hit a pigeon instead which caused his girlfriend to collapse onto the floor in hysterics.