where do i live? at the moment i can hear the rag and bone man passing by my front door, classily ringing his bell, and neglecting to yell “raaag nnn booon” (“something big is going to happen…”)
yesterday as i jogged around the river, a man with three teeth and a micky, or perhaps minnie, mouse t-shirt accosted me as i ran. i extracted one of my headphones and cocked my ear his way – “i don’t mean to be nasty”, he said, “but there is a reason there is a path here, and a road here.”.
“don’t worry about it”, i replied,”i’ll be ok” and ran on for a long long time – though not fast enough to duck or to dodge his rejoinder: “fuck you”.
and then my friends and i played board games and discussed all of the things that young men discuss – philosophy and gilrs, reading books, sporting activities, bohemia, pubs, coffee. we were interupted at 3am by a girl ringing the doorbell:
“do you know alison?”, she asked
“it’s just that i think she has gone off with my boyfriend”
“sorry, no-one knows who alison is.”
she apologised, the door was closed, and we expressed incredulity before heading to unmade beds.
what denizens there are – hopeless wandering girls, tooth-lacking pedants, men self-effacingly seeking rags and bones. it makes you want to play the swordfishtrombones.