I've reached November 2022 of Another Round About Town. I'll hopefully have it finished by the end of the year.
Monday, 14 November 2022
A big skein of geese floats high in the overcast sky above the scrappy flock of fieldfares which darts down the valley towards town. I follow a deer under the railway bridge before it leaps a low section of fence and disappears into the wood. I wrestle with the gate and take the lane down to Mr Barrett’s old place. It's undergoing renovation at the moment but I remember the time fifteen years ago when I made the mistake of taking the van down there. Mr Barrett appeared at his front door holding a washing-up brush and wearing a pinny. He watched nervously as I performed an approximately fifty point turn in his tiny driveway. It’s five years since Mr Barrett died and the house has stood empty ever since so I’m intrigued to have a letter addressed to the new owner. I pass the cheaply laminated warning signs: STICK TO THE FOOTPATH, BEWARE OF LANDSLIDES and I struggle down the now barely passable track along the treacherous bank of the swollen river. I post the mail through what’s left of the doorway and turn to see the remains of two dogs, presumably Mr Barrett's pet collies, exhumed and laid out on the top stones of what used to be the garden wall.
On the top road the builders are listening to Billy Ocean’s 1984 hit, Caribbean Queen.
Back in town the man in the perma-crease trousers is singing to himself as he browses the charity shop mugs and glassware while a younger man in a durag tries on an 80s old-man style mossy-grey quarter-length easy-care jacket. He checks the mirror and adjusts the waistband of his grey marl sweatpants, pulling it up so that an inch more ankle is showing above his blue and white sliders.
At the supermarket, two women are discussing jumpers.
“I’ve had a few jumpers from Sainsbury’s but for £22.99 you’d expect them to be thicker, you know, a bit chunkier?”
“Yeah”
“Anyway I’ve come in for one of those air fresheners. You know, the ones you see advertised on the television?
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Oh well, they’re for the bathroom but a friend of mine says you can use them anywhere.”
It starts to rain heavily as I make my way home. On the other side of the road a man with a Specsavers bag and a Remembrance Day poppy traipses through the six-inch drifts of sodden leaves. The big cherry by the primary school is almost bare now. I pass the Village Hall which is advertised For Sale At Auction, and my neighbour, Phil who is sweeping leaves with his headphones on.
