They are like wild things when they flood out of the clubs on a Saturday night. I catch the worst of it when I’m out walking. They shout, scream, litter and kick things about. They are just normal everyday kids who don’t know how to hold their drink. Bless them. I give them a wide berth though. I don’t want their noise. Sometimes there are others amongst them, who sometimes can feel quite sinister by comparison. The quiet ones. Like the man I encountered on Queens Road. I took note of every detail of him. I do it automatically when I am out alone in the dark. Just in case. He was a thick-set man. And not wearing a coat, I could see that he wore a V-necked jumper, probably navy and a checked shirt underneath. And possibly navy or grey trousers. He was slightly bandy and walked reading his phone. I say walked. He lurched and leaned. That’s what made me wary of him. He was ahead of me so I walked close to the railings and houses expecting him to walk into the road. He didn’t but came closer and then very very near. My heart began pumping. I kept walking but all my senses were alive. Adrenalin was racing. And then he was gone. Could I have taken him on? He wasn’t tall but he was heavy, strong, I suspect. But he was clearly pissed. It didn’t come to that, thank god but my internal reaction surprised me. But we are animals, after all. And fear is a great leveller and energy-giver, in those circumstances, at least.
Two other slightly older men walked past me from Terrace Road. They were talking and laughing together. One of them had on a pill-box like hat in caramel. It doesn’t matter, said one, that you’ve been a fucking prick or that you’ve been more of a fucking prick than I was….
