A youth stood leaning against a wall, scooping food from a plastic container as though he hadn't eaten for days. Maybe he hadn't, eaten for days. Certainly added meaning to the term "fast food.
I didn't have long to wait, the bus came, i got on board, found a seat upstairs, sat down, and i was on my way, and suddenly hit with a dinger of a headache. My rushing for the bus, my age, i may have over-dressed, it DID feel warm on the bus, but god my head. Ding! Dong! I don't have headaches, but i sure as hell had got one now. In my rush to get ready, i'd forgotten to eat, maybe that was it. There would be no time for a sight-seeing stroll and chips today, it would have to wait.
The bus made it's way through Bunton, land of privately owned dwellings and solar panels, and the workplace of various driving academies. So often, too often, i sleep through this part of the journey, but not today.
On to Seagrove, the bus made a stop, and three kids came clumping up the stairs.
" Sit at the front."
"I want to sit at the back".
"Sit where you want" said gran as though she really didn't give a toss where they sat.
We pressed on.
Eventually the spire of St.Peter's and a tower crane appeared on the horizon. Not long now, i was bustin for a pee.
Rushing through the shopping center, dodging young mums, they get younger, prams, buggies, shopping trolleys, couldn't believe how busy the place was, i got to the public loos, twenty pence piece in hand, through the turn-style, find a space, unzip, YES! Relief.
Straight to T.K.MAXX, six quid brolly, and feeling quite annoyed with myself, life eh?:neutral:
Having left TK, walking along a sheltered walkway, i past a number of bus-stops, public benches with spatterings of pigeon guano beneath the light-mountings used for roosts.
A hole in the wall cash machine right next to a betting office. I couldn't believe it.
On to the Cornmarket and Frydays.
What the hell? A cartoon of chips and a "time-out" call.
Why me? I thought to myself as i sat alone, eating my chips, minding my own business, all those empty benches, and she comes and sits next to me. A portly middle-aged woman plonked herself down beside me, Wanna chip? **** off! I ate heartily, and hastily, and relocated to my bus-stop, my head was still dinging.
A flock of feral pigeons circled overhead. Pigeon, used to be my favorite meat, i look up and all i see is dinners. Roast pigeon, pigeon casserole', pigeon-breast in a rich cranberry sauce. All those pigeons, all those dinners, causing a nuisance, crapping everywhere. Oh well.
I was ready for home. It was trying to rain. Did i care?layful:
An ambulance sped by, blue lights flashing and sirens wailing.
My bus pulled up and that was me, glad to be heading home.
Out of town, into the country. I saw a front lawn riddled with mole-hills, they're weird creatures they are, i found myself thinking.
A pile of rubble and a gaping hole in a six foot brick wall.
Nasreen, "a passion for Indian".
Then out into the countryside. More pigeons, wild this time, feeding on rape. A cock pheasant. Ivy clad trees.
A short trot from stop to home and then it was rush'rush'rush.
Kettle on, put spuds into the oven, load the washing machine, cup o' tea, no, coffee, make the bed, chop some beetroot, slice some cheese, two paracetamols, ding ******* dong.:hypnotysed:
Getting ready for work.
I know it's all rubbish, piffle, but i enjoy doing it, no harm done i hope.
It won't last.