“I was out in fucking Leeds at the weekend,” said the man sitting in front of me on the bus. “There’s some fucking talent over there compared to Huddersfield, you know? It’s a different world.”
“You need some Bromide,” said the man in the bent glasses next to him.
“Bromide? What’s Bromide?”
“It’ll calm you down — stop you thinking about it all the time.”
“But I like thinking about it!”
I looked out of the window. The plump woman with the thick, dry, curly hair was sitting at the lights in her mauve Vauxhall Corsa, eating yoghurt from the pot with a metal spoon.
At the house with the garden with the single gatepost and a gate but nothing else — no fence or wall etc, nothing to mark its boundary with the pavement — a boy of about 10 years old stood staring, his face smeared with streaks of fake tan.
“How come you’re just standing there?” he asked the delivery man, who was writing out a card on the step of the house next door.
“How come you’re just standing there?” the delivery man asked back.
“I don’t know” said the boy.
Out in the sticks, surrounded by dog groomers' vans, the sun came out and the flies were bouncing off my face. Trees cast dappled shadows across ivy covered walls that buzzed with bees. I heard a cuckoo, saw dunlins, lapwings, pheasants, (close-up)swallows, ducks, geese, and a beautiful peacock butterfly, all within half an hour.
Back in town, Craig Bainbridge told me he’d seen two ducks eating chips outside C.Booth’s hardware shop on his way into work. He said he’d have taken a photo but he was on his scooter.
Knitted beige lurex cardigan — no sleeves, tied at waist.
Green anorak with hood — North Face
Black and navy woollen jumper
Hi-vis coat — green/muddy
Pink polo-neck jumper with black gilet
Navy blue overall/shop coat
Fleece jackets — various and sundry
Blue cagoule — torn
Green zip-up raglan cardigan
Light blue cotton shirt
T-shirts — various and sundry