Sunday Supplement
Tuesday April 05th 2011, 2:01 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


Sunday mornings are quiet on the streets
But they are also a strange time
For interacting with the public
People in the state of deep fug after a night out
People who don’t come out during the week
Folks who go to church
Thereby unveiling themselves as christians
Others who normally catch buses but can’t wait that long on a Sunday

As I mull away on my list of Sunday users
Spidey sense suddenly kicks in and I hit the brakes
I do the usual apology to the passenger
What was it this time?
It was a common occurence
That I am sure most people are not aware of
Three cars bombing down a main road
The one in front decides to turn left
But doesn’t anticipate that the pedestrian aproaching the side street
Has got his head up his ass listening to his music
He marches across in one flowing move across an extended pavement
Car number 2 reacts late to the surprise brake lights
Then I…for once…not fully aware of the whole complete world around me
Slam on
My heart was racing a little this time

Rolled up to the rank and got out for some fresh air
Not for long…young man approaching…looks like he is heading for me
He gets in
I close the windows to the cold morning air
Then one minute later I wish I hadn’t
The guy…who is sat right next to me
Lets off a silent but deadly
It quickly envelops me
He stares straight ahead…probably in a savouring trance
I shorten my breath to tiny stabs
Not wanting to acknowledge
This is hard…I am fighting to maintain status
Then I notice the fan is on number one…it might be just enough
I carefully tilt the right vent
And it is just enough to give passage to my nose
A tiny trickle of air
Good grief…the fucker is out…and all the windows drop

A couple of shopping bag trips later I am called to a pub
A slight wiry old Irish fella gets in
He has one of those thick traveller type accents
I can barely understand him
But enough to make out The Crescent pub is the destination
Just as I am breaching the bottom of New England Hill
I put the car into third gear and ascend the hill
The Irishman puts his hand directly on top of the back of my hand on the gearstick
I am frozen…his hand remains
This is close quarter madness
I strain both my eyes left
He is staring straight ahead just like the farter
Thankfully there are no stroking or groping motions
I take a breath
Seven Dials is coming up
I gear down
Good lord…his hand gears down with me
The cab is stopped at the edge of the Dials waiting for an opening
I push it into first
The hand follows
Fuck Sake…
That’s it…I slide my hand out from underneath his
But his hand stays there on top of the gearstick
Should I ask him to change gear for me?
We cross the Dials
I change into second by holding the stick vertically
Ahhhh…The Crescent at last
He slides his hand from the gearstick…sighs
And leans left to get some money out of his pocket
Then coninues looking out of the front window and says
“Do you know where I can find any lesbians?”
“Try the Marlboro” I mumbled

I headed home for a break
And refil my camping mug
But was interupted as usual just as I was parking
The job was in the flats right next to me…and to go right across town
I wouldn’t have time to boil a kettle…damn
I pulled up directly outside the main door
Which was soon opened by a woman in a black outfit
She was shepherding another woman out of the door
And into the car
She was big with orange hair and looked distinctly unhappy
As we set off I could hear her crying in the back
This always creates a strange kind of tension
Prime directive applies in all of these particular cases
Just got to get there quick and disembark
Then the crying stops as she makes a call
She starts explaining to the person on the other end
That the woman who let her out of the door
Had invited her round for the day
And another woman had turned up
Shortly after the two got off with each other
Right in front of the big girl with orange hair
Really getting down to it
Until Big Orange started crying
The woman in the black outfit…quite a woman if I remember
They must be well under way back at the flat by now
By jingo…the things that are going on behind all these doors

Back at the rank…I fell asleep slightly
Tap on the window
It was the cab owner
He gave me an envelope
It said on the side
Refund….23 Ashburnham Drive
Inside was £10
Well well
This was from the rip off that I mentioned in my last despatch
The marvel of working for a cooperative instead of a company
They took the responsability for sending me there
And gave me back £2 more than I had been ripped off
How nice