Sunday, 29 September 2013

I gave Molly a lift home from school…



I gave Molly a lift home from school. ‘This week has gone so quickly’ she said, ‘I can’t believe it’s nearly next weekend already’. We passed the bus stop where a man dressed as a ninja with two sticks of french bread under his arm was struggling to light a cigarette.

It was bright and sunny again, one of those quiet, calm days out in the sticks; I could hear power tools and dogs barking half a mile away. A couple in their sixties wearing matching plaid shirts (hers accessorised with a brown leather belt at the waist) were walking perfectly in step through the village. They synchronously tore pieces from their pasties and chewed in unison. When somebody they knew passed them in a car, they noticed simultaneously, both glancing up at the same time before breaking into smiles and holding aloft their right hands to wave.

An old woman was talking to her gardener about the neighbour who had recently returned from a holiday abroad:
‘Have you seen his suntan? He’s so dark! I didn’t want to let him in; I don’t usually let people that colour in the house!’

Autumn spiders have moved in on the flies that have been basking on the white UPVC doors. Silk shrouded baubles of pre-digested carcass dangle from the pretend wooden beading, bobbing silently in the light breeze.