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. It's worked like new ever since.
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 waiting for me, leaning on the fence, smoking a roll-up.
A border Collie had been barking, upsetting ornaments and head-butting the lounge window 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 number eight, 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 number twelve, 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 wearing a white hooded top and 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 number two into an apoplectic 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.