Friday, 26 September 2014


Passing, in the morning, along the main street of the neighbourhood in which I reside. Most of the shops are not open, the bookmakers are shut but the gaggle of drunks are collecting outside waiting.

A young man, could be handsome, walks down the road talking to himself, with a beer in one hand and holding up his jeans with the other. On the brink of losing his looks and all hope. 

Sunday, 21 September 2014

Hanging out

Initially we were hanging out in Spitalfields Market while Paul and Simon went to Murdocks in Hackett for some beard grooming. I'm guessing the rise of the Hoxton beard has led to a need for services to the beard. These services include massaging with oils, and moisturisers, hot towels to the face which  enliven the nerves of the face (apparently), trimming and shaping of the beard, including scissors to trim length and cut throat razor to create a neater line around the neck and down the sides, topped off with some further conditioning oils and a bit of combing. And some mustache twizzling. Who knew growing a beard involved more than just standing as far away from the razor as possible.

After that we ate some lunch and then hung out at the Southbank Centre were bails was reminding me of incidents we have had on holidays where we drive. Bails and I have been on a few road trips together. She doesn't drive. I'm always in charge of the car.

There was a trip in France where we flew to Toulouse and then drive a couple of hours to a cottage we had rented in the middle of nowhere. There was one village we passed with cars parked down the whole length of the  main street, and I clipped the wing mirrors of every single car. Perhaps 20 cars. Later that trip we were in our local town on a roundabout and I spotted a couple who I knew by sight from home - we would often wait for the same train at Haringay Station. I didn't know their names but felt compelled to shout out the window as we circled the roundabout "Haringey Folks" without ever stopping to say hi or see if they were freaked out or not. And when I got home I didn't pluck up courage to ask them if they heard me.

Before that was our big drive from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth and back. First getting stopped for speeding by two cops with a speedometer. To be fair I didn't know we were in a town which is why I hadn't slowed down. On stopping us one asked me, did I know how fast I was driving? And I told him the speed I was driving. Which he informed me was 20 mph over the speed limit. At which I apologised profusely and got my wallet out asking how much I owed him. And he sternly told me not to let him catch me doing it again. No officer, I won't. Thank you very much. And sped off again. We visited Addo Elephant Park. Amazing to see these huge beasts in the wild. Taking lots of pictures while not getting out of the car. Pulled up near a watering hole with quite a few other vehicles I somehow leaned on the horn that was basically the entire centre of the steering wheel. Much evil eyeing from those around us. Embarrassed, I managed to do that at least two more times. It started to rain after that and the track we were driving on turned to a mud slick. A very nice man ahead of us got out of his four wheel drive and came back to tell me how to safely drive in mud - slow acceleration, no brake if at all possible.  Concentrating so hard on these instructions to get back to the car park I totally forgot about the brake and drove straight into the fence while parking. 

How we laughed. And still do. 

Tuesday, 9 September 2014

Meet me in the slug and lettuce

So I'm meeting my dad in the slug and lettuce. We commonly call it the slag and lettuce due to the old rep it had of being a bit of a meat market. So I'm chatting to my sister and she's saying, so you going somewhere with a knowing glint. Yes say I, meeting pops in the slag and lettuce. Yes she says I know I was just on the phone to him. So are you the slag and he's the lettuce? Astute my sister I think. Bitch!

Thursday, 4 September 2014

Hand to arse

Outside the office a man pulls up in his Range Rover. He's meeting a woman in Mercedes Subaru. She's opening her boot. He puts his hand firmly on her arse with his fingers lining the mid seam of her shorts. Uh uh she says to him in a deep throaty sound that makes her displeasure known. He removes his hand. The boot of this flashy car opens and she gets out an old lady shopping trolley filled with cheap-arse blue plastic bags tied at the tops to keep the contents in. Under the trolley are a heap more plastic bags. Someone in Lolaks distracts the man. He jogs off over the street telling the woman he'll be back. She says after him - don't be long now, we have things to do.