DUVET

‘Oh,’ she said when the door of the lift opened. ‘Hello.’
She got in the lift.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘How are you?’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m at a meeting in the Deaf Centre had to nip back let the dog back in someone said something about a dog and I remembered that he’s been out all this time so I went back and he’s had quite a run around, anyway,’ she said, ‘that’s a big bag.’
‘It’s an old duvet,’ I said, ‘been in a box a year or so and I thought it was time to get rid of it as I’m clearing out the place.’
The lift nearing the ground floor.
‘You should leave it by the Deaf Centre or the park so someone can find it and use it or you could take it to the hostel,’ she said.
‘That’s what I was going to do,’ I said. ‘Take it to the hostel, leave it there, you know, don’t want it to get wet or anything.’
We walked to the corner of King Square, by the Deaf Centre. She went in. I carried on to the hostel front door and pressed the buzzer.
‘Yes?’ a woman’s voice.
‘I’ve got a duvet here,’ I said leaning down to talk, ‘been in a box a year or so, I was wondering anyone here might be able to use it?’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Bring it in, bring it in.’
I pushed the door when the buzzer sounded and walked into he foyer of the hostel. She stood behind a counter, three or four young men the other side, one of them was saying something.
I put the bag with the duvet down and said, ‘Is it okay here?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
The young men paid me no attention.
‘Okay,’ I said and left the building.

TWO FOURS

On the way down Four got in the lift and said, ‘Hello, young man,’ which is why I like him, or appreciate him, these small replenishing moments of illusion.
‘Alright?’ I said in Bristolian.
‘Cor,’ he said, ‘blimey, this weather.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘It’s like you don’t know what to wear.’
‘I know,’ he said and pulled at his top. ‘I put a shirt on under this because I thought it was cold and of course it isn’t so I end up sweating like a pig.’
‘Like the filth, you mean?’ I said.
We laughed.
On my way back as I came down the slope runs to the front door from the alleyway up from the Bell, Four was getting out of the car his sister/girlfriend/both ferries him around in. He got to the door before me and I held it after he pulled it open.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said. ‘Twice in one day, aren’t I the lucky one?’
‘My pleasure,’ I said, smiling.
‘Been shopping?’ I said.
‘I’ve just been to Tesco’s,’ he said, ‘and I got outside and I was desperate for the loo.’
‘Oh yeh?’ I said.
‘It’s drinking all the water,’ he said. ‘It’s worse than when I was on the beer but I got to keep drinking it because I’m training and I got to keep hydrated.’
‘Things change as you, we, start getting older,’ I said.
‘Tell me about,’ he said, but I didn’t think I had to.

BIG LIST

BIG LIST

• INSURANCE (MID P NUMBER) – TRAVEL PROOF PRINT
• BLACK SHOES
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• BOOK BRISTOL BUS
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• ORGANISE HT MARKETING
- CARDS
- TEMPLATES (PRINT)
• MOTHER’S BAGS, BAG-CALL
• CALL GEMMA STONE
• GO WINDMILL
• GO SEE WILFS MUM
• APPLY TO MORE JOBS
• CALL LINA
• JAMBLO – 07588 483 535
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- DOWNLOAD TUTORIAL
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• CHECK PRINTER + CHECK IN
• GET LOGO FROM MON

ROAD RAGED

He got out the car came towards me shouting, ‘Go on then, get out the car, go on, you cunt, get out the fucking car.’
Opened the door of my car which already that morning I’d used to transport materials to her studio in Mivart Street, pop into Charlotte Keele to order a prescription, and drop her off wherever it was she wanted dropping and now to get to work.
‘I’ve got your number,’ I said not really thinking he’d collapse in a heap and beg me not to make more of this incident.
What had happened was I’d turned into a side road and this was his gripe - as he was articulating it loudly accompanied by small flecks of spit a couple of them I felt on my face and recoiled wiping them away – that I hadn’t stopped to let him pass but instead had made to pull into the space of the triple driveway on the left a little further into the road than he thought acceptable considering, I imagined later having not managing such activity during my public berating, his speed and superiority and indeed moral right to the road at such time as he wanted it…NOW NOW NOW.
As I was saying, ‘Get out the fucking car,’ he shouted.
There was a vein running up the side of his neck I noticed and he was going red. I decided not to get out of the car and later was annoyed at myself for stopping and giving the opportunity for this man to share his thoughts about what I’d done. And later still I admitted to myself some culpability for the rage he expressed when I angrily pointed at the space I intended to use to let him pass and tapped the side of my head suggesting ignorance or thoughtlessness or stupidity on his part for not realising what I planned as we sat the front windows of our cars adjacent and looked each other in the eye.
I was scared and remain shaken even now. He was younger and fitter and could if he'd so wanted hurt me. I am embarrassed I allowed myself to be vulnerable in a situation unnecessary and avoidable in so many ways.

THE EGG

‘Is it an egg?’ he said from one of the low walls in St. James Barton roundabout.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But it hasn’t got shell.’
The man got up from the wall and walked stooped over to where the egg lay midway between the phone box and where the plane tree stood until chopped down a few days ago. He crouched down, reached slowly, picked the egg up.
We stood together when he squeezed the egg.
‘Is it real?’ I said, wondering if it was a rubber copy, and not wanting to touch it again like I did before taking a photograph which is when the man said, ‘Is it an egg?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to eat it.’
‘I thought it was laid by one of the pigeons,’ I said. ‘They left it there, you know?’
‘But what about the shell?’ he said. ‘Why isn’t it on the egg?’

HOME

‘Shake my hand,’ she said to me halfway up Thomas Street as I made my way back from an Occasional Cinema at Magpie, top of Picton Street.
I approached her shook her hand warm, clammy, weak grip.
‘I heard you earlier,’ I said, ‘where the film was showing. You shouted, “I’ve been in the valley of death and I’m still standing.”’
‘I’ve just got out of prison,’ she said. ‘How long you think I did?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Eighteen months and I’ve just got out.’
‘You said,’ I said.
She was using crutches, her feet were bare and the middle toe of her right foot was bandaged.
‘That’s my son,’ she said pointing at the young man wearing a stripey shirt and standing nearby astride a pushbike.
‘Look at my toe,’ said mother, and I did, ‘You want to know what happened?’
‘What?’
‘The police jumped me, got me down and held me and chained me, they did, then one of them hit my foot, look at it, it’s horrible isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said about the cut and bruised foot the skin of which was red and tight with swelling.
We didn’t speak for a moment with the traffic on Stokes Croft and voices from Hamilton House.
‘I don’t want to go home,’ she said. ‘I’m scared.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Yes, but that’s my son,’ pointing again at the young man.
‘You said,’ I said. ‘Is he looking after you?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I need looking after.’
We Said goodbye, and as I neared Dove Street she shouted, ‘Hey,’ and I stopped and turned, ‘I’m in court on Tuesday.’
‘Oh yes,’ I said.
‘I’m giving evidence against a paedophile.’
‘Good luck,’ I said and with that made my way back home.

DON’T

Waiting for the lift when JJ came out his flat carrying a rubbish bag he put down the rubbish chute. Out of the chute room I said to him, ‘You been using my laundry time?’
‘What?’
‘You been using my laundry time?’
‘Why?’ he said, defensive.
‘No problem,’ I said, ‘just I know you’ve used it in the past…’
‘…no I haven’t.’
‘I know you did and I got pissed off with you, remember?’ I said. ‘I was stood outside round the corner and you walked up the street and we had a discussion about it and I said I was pissed off.’
His face was red and looking up at me.
‘Anyway,’ I said not wanting to dwell on the conflict past. ‘Why I’m saying is I’ve changed my time so that time, the time you used…okay, the time you say you didn’t, it’s free now and I thought you might be interested.’
‘My time’s at eight,’ he said. ‘When’s yours?’
‘Ten,’ I said. ‘You might want it is all, is what I thought.’
‘Even if I did,’ he said, ‘you’re bigger than me,’ backing off, smiling at last.
‘Oh,’ I said, gesturing with my hand as I made my way into the lift had arrived, ‘Don’t.’