On my way into work I passed a man I often see around. He never speaks to me but he once held open the door at the Co-op and he’ll sometimes nod stiffly in my direction. On this occasion though, he ignored me completely.
In the park I saw the chubby man with the comb-over, he was with his black labrador, John.
I paused on Fitzwilliam Street to swap a woollen hat for a peaked cap and a man with pointy shoes, short tippy-tappy strides and a Liverpool FC plastic carrier bag overtook me just as a Suzuki Swift killed a pigeon at the traffic lights.
On the estate of barely detached houses with the mainly new, mainly black, mainly German cars. I went to number three where the mini with ‘Maureen’ written on it was parked in the driveway. I waited on the front step next to a scale model of a baby rabbit and the doormat which has NICE TO SEE YOU, TO SEE YOU NICE written on it. Next door, a man in a suit and dark glasses paused while he unlocked the door of his BMW. He glanced over to me across his plastic lawn and said “Anything for numero uno before I head off?” I said there wasn’t. Eventually the door of number three opened and a thin man in his sixties with a dressing gown undone to the waist smiled and said “Good morning sir!” I smiled back and handed him his package “Yes. Thank you! Thanks a lot. Ta. Thank you. Thank you” he said.
Also today, I heard some men playing the bagpipes on the ring-road and an owl.
