I only have a moment. This will have to be a quickie. I’m always chasing my tail. It’s become a little out of control. Even on holiday I’m doing it.
I chanted them all the way home from my walk this morning. I wanted to remember every nuance, every breath, every rest. The first was heard outside the Pier Pressure nightclub. A man with no coat on making large gestures with his hands as he spoke. What he said was lost to the wind. The woman he was speaking to was another matter. A broad woman wearing a large, outsize navy blue parka. Shut up! she was shouting. Shut up, no one is speaking to you. She too made big expressive gestures with her arms. Be gone! she shouted. Be gone. Past it. Gone. The second was outside The Angel pub. I didn’t see her. I just heard her voice, soft, feminine, imploring and ending her sentences on an up, questioning. I know it’s not my fault, she was saying, but I can’t help blaming myself. The final part of the sentence was more like an enquiry than a statement. I didn’t hear his reply.
They are back in force. The students. They were everywhere this morning. Was it the wind? I’ve seen horses go wild in the wind. A girl was standing outside the telephone box opposite Slater’s Bakery. She was reaching down into a voluminous handbag. A trickle of water was running from the under the phone box. Had she, or someone else peed there? It doesn’t bear thinking about. She looked at me rather sheepishly. So perhaps it was her. Desperate measures.
Off. I must be off. Work then Cwmbran. A bientot. What is the French for or?
