At the Back of the Bus.
Woman in three-quarter length quilted anorak: You should have seen us roller skating the other night!
Other woman in three-quarter length quilted anorak: You weren’t kaylied as you were going round, were you?
Woman in three-quarter length quilted anorak: Aye, the drunker we got, the braver we got.
Crisp shadows, blue sky, a starting of blossom with the shreds of newspaper in the trees, a weathered, grey wooden fence with the greenest cotoneaster leaking through the cracks, the second bullfinch in a week on Newsome Road South, rotten gates that fall apart in your hand, a moulded ‘stone’ tortoise with a solar panel shell and a night-light face, massive cars parked too close together, a woven willow reindeer which is still kicking around from Christmas…
Mr Briggs pulled over in his Suzuki Carry, he took his pipe out of his mouth and pinned it between the ball of his thumb and the steering wheel while he leant across and shouted to me through the window:
“I’m off to t’bins; I’ve got a load of bloody rubbish in!”
That’s all. Then he went.
I saw Mr Booth outside the newsagent’s. He told me again about the time he went to see The Rolling Stones in 1980:
“Mick Jagger was from me to where that Renault’s parked... Margaret was on my shoulders... The car broke down on the way home...”
