Town was full when I walked this morning. A rabble surged out of Pier Pressure night club in various states of seeming undress, though to them it was probably regarded as ‘dressed-up’. A girl with a voluptuous bottom that rolled and cavorted within her shiny, silver skirt made her slow way up Pier Street, unaccompanied, alone. Her shoes were gold. I heard Welsh and English voices. Who were they all? Surely all the students have gone? Young farmers maybe? Or college students? I heard want sounded like Polish being spoken by Trefechan Bridge. One of them laughed. Was it at me in my ridiculously long coat? More huddles of bodies by the taxi rank. A girl in a sleeveless dress, thighs exposed talking in my ear as I walk past. I feel like I’m watching like a game, she said.

My guest didn’t turn up. Her taxi let her down. So be it. He is wobbly again today. His carries it in his face, so sorrowful, so disappointed. I try to be steady, positive. We have a coffee together. It is nice to be out amongst strangers, not doing much. The house is clean. All duties for now done. Just work now, make a start.

The moon was huge and full. Is that the reason for the dreams? Peeing in public. Wanting to lock the door but it wouldn’t. AM talking to me about westerns. Be steady for him. Make it safe. Make it calm.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.