Sleeping on the Lawn

Did I hear him or see him first? I can’t remember. North Road is always in semi-darkness at that time of the day. I like it for that. I saw him because the house ahead had its security light on. His form lying there on that front lawn was lit up. He turned and murmured as I walked by. I got a little shock. It was unexpected. You think you are alone then you realise you are not. But he was out. Out for the count. Fast asleep on the grass. Wasn’t it wet? Didn’t he care?

They’re back in force. The students are back – a returning made manifest by the boom, boom of the music pulsing from Pier Pressure nightclub and the various, ill-clad bodies making their way home to Alexandra Hall. I watched as three girls pushed in through the door of one of the other ‘Homes’ just up from the Hall, the other two waiting patiently as one put the code into the lock. There was much shouting, much sitting around on benches eating. KFC boxes, empty now, stood abandoned on the roads and pavements. Seagulls, as if in competition, also screeched and exclaimed, waiting for the scraps of pizza and chips. Others stood in a messy array on the shoreline, watching, waiting for the dawn.

The Shoreline B&B is full again, no doubt with parents bringing their issue to University.

A lad slept, head in hands, on a table outside Wetherspoons. Taxi fishes darted here and there.

Back to normal and I’ve a day of sewing ahead. Emails written and sent. Another list complete. Rest now before the next. A grey, cloudy sky. I think of a house out there in the sun and warmth. A part of me left behind. I have an apron and a little wooden animal stolen from a Noah’s Ark. What is it? A porcupine, a hedgehog, or even a bear? Who knows?

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.