TIME TO WORSHIP
one of the local churches put on a show in St. James Barton roundabout, Stokes Croft, providing food and a table of clothes to take, for the homeless and people live on the street

GOOD NEWS

The 49 was on time.
‘Heard the good news?’ said the driver.
'Jesus loves me?’
We looked at each other. His index finger poised before the buttons, the front of the ticket machine. It occurred to me, despite all the other stuff going on in that moment, he might tell me to get off the bus.
I smiled, ‘You mean the football?’
He relaxed, I saw, and he pressed one of the buttons, I took the ticket came ouot the side.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The Germans lost.’
‘Is that good, then?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘I could be German.’
‘But you’re not.’
‘Supposing I was and you’d just said that?’
‘Go away,’ he said and checked his mirrors.

LUCK WITH THE BRACES

‘One minute it’s raining, the next it’s sunny,’ I said to the man in the lift. ‘It’s difficult to know what to wear.’
We walked the same way from the building, I thought I could manage a short distance and, as I did so, plotted the point of departure.
‘I’m going to the House of Fraser sale,’ he said.
‘Is it open today? It looked like it was private a couple of days ago.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was cardholders only.’
Alongside the park he said, ‘I’m looking for some braces.’
‘Braces?’ thinking about his trousers.
‘I bought some a few weeks ago, cost twelve pounds, they’re really nice so I’m hoping to get another pair, cheaper too,’ he said, ‘in the sale.’
‘You know why it’s closing down?’
‘They’re relocating.’
‘To the new end?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Then they’re going to re-do the inside and Primark’ll have it.’
‘Twelve months is a long time to be closed?’ at the bottom corner.
‘They want to take out the escalators in the middle, make more room. You remember how it used to be?’
‘John Lewis?’
‘Yes.’
Opposite the top of King Square Avenue I said, ‘Good luck with the braces.’

LIVE PIGEON WALKING

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT?

I was taking a photograph when her face, suntanned, got in mine.
‘What you taking a photograph for?’ she said, her atrocious breath.
‘Because it says, “A pillar of the community,”’ I said pointing at the writing on one of the tiled columns at the front entrance to DHS.
‘Oh yes,’ she said and I moved away...
...but not so far I didn’t hear...
‘Oi,’ she said, ‘Oi,’ to the two men she was drinking with on the corner where Hillview, Stokes Croft and Jamaica Street meet.
‘You know why he’s taking a photograph?’ she said. ‘Hey, fucking listen, listen,’ she said. ‘Oi. You know why he’s taking a photograph?’ she said. ‘Hey, listen. It’s because it says, shut up,’ she said. ‘Listen, it says, “A pillar of the community,” on that pillar, the one there, look’ she said. ‘What do you think of that? Oi,’ she said, ‘What do you think of that?’

JUST A FRONT DOOR CONVERSATION

‘Hello stranger,’ said Godmother as I walked towards the block’s front door she held open for me, I knew.
‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’
Our laundry times overlap and we chat when we meet there but recently because my work patterns have temporarily changed I’ve not been down those mornings.
‘I’ve had work,’ I said.
‘You’re lucky,’ she said. ‘It’s been mayhem recently.’
‘Oh yes?’ my interest got.
‘One of the Somali women has taken the spare eleven o’clock time comes after yours but she arrives earlier then and if the washers are empty, which they have been since you’ve not been coming down, she’ll use them.’ Godmother, who’s known to speak her mind, pointed out that this wasn’t the done thing. ‘But it’s empty,’ said the woman, ‘I know...’ said Godmother. They had a row.
She took off the sunglasses she was wearing and said, ‘The next week I was leaving the laundry and she came in, completely ignored me, walked right past, said hello to Jay Jay and M’Ho, who were there chatting in the corner...
‘When I saw Jay Jay the other day, I said, “Were you talking about me?” Well, you know what Jay Jay’s like...’
‘Yes,’ I said, knowing.
‘...of course he denied it but then I asked M’Ho and he said they had been talking about me.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes, “Oh,”’ she said. ‘When I see her next...Everything was alright ‘til they moved in,’ she said.
She feels threatened, I know. She gets early morning phone calls from someone who, when she picks up, is silent the other end of the line.
‘She’s not all of them,’ I said. ‘She behaves like she does not because she’s a Somali but because she’s a bitch.’
As we spoke I was thinking how to work what we said into a piece, and that that was a betrayal of the reason for our conversation.

CITY CENTRE DUCK

FOUND WRITING

“Scars”

by

Darren Watkins

“You bitch,” he said, saliva dribbling from his half open mouth as he limped towards Janet, wielding his walking stick like a club.

“Please don’t!” Janet pleaded as he backed away, tripping and falling so that she lay prostrate before him.

Relishing the fear in her eyes he raised the cane higher, clutching it in both hands by its rubber-tipped end.

“Please...”

For a moment it seemed as if he were going to stop, as he had so many times before; then the feral heat of madness returned and he brought the cane down with a sickening thud.

The single blow pulverised Janet’s skull, transforming her pretty features into a collage of gore, the brass handled cane appearing to absorb the thick red mass like a sponge -

“No!” Dave jolted awake. He realised after a moment’s disorientation that he had fallen asleep in his armchair again, the living-room light still blazing.

Sweat had moulded Dave’s T-shirt to his emaciated torso like a second skin; his heart thundered in his chest, as if about to burst through his ribcage in a shower of cartilage and blood.

Running a hand through his tangled mop of brown hair Dave slumped back into the comforting folds of the chair, feeling the perspiration cooling against his body.

Tongue rasping against the roof of his mouth, lips cracked and dry, he desperately craved water to slake his thirst, apathy and depression binding him to his chair more tightly than any rope or chain.

The telephone rang making Dave’s muscles spasm involuntarily; its petulant cry like the mournful plee of a child alone in the darkness. Although jarring his nerves he ignored it, praying for the caller to give up and leave him to his dark thoughts.

He remained that way for a long time, staring at his wedding photograph on the mantelpiece, thinking how beautiful Janet had been that day...

HORSETALES (Monday)

I went to the allotment this afternoon. Meant to go for an hour but it was two I spent digging and pulling up horsetail.
‘Hey,’ said a man’s voice and I looked up to see him standing by the gate, on his way out.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘You used to have to take your shoes off when you came before,’ he said.
‘Why’s that then?’
‘It was like a palace,’ he said. ‘But now?’ shaking his head.
‘Now?’
‘Now, you can see what it’s like... It’s the women,’ he said.
‘They like it wild?’
‘One or two is okay but there’s too many of them.’
‘They get everywhere,’ I said.
Later a man came over and said, ‘You’ll be glad to hear that next door has been asked to leave.’
Next door was overgrown, four foot high and more, and I’d used a scythe and shears in a brief then despairing attempt to uncover the path.
‘I was thinking of taking a strimmer to it,’ I said. ‘Open up the path.’
‘The new person’ll appreciate it, I’d think,’ he said, then, ‘You know what his excuse was, don’t you?’
‘Tell me.’
‘It was always raining,’ he shook his head and laughed, scorning.
‘You leave it too long and they start to merge,’ I said.
‘I’ve got the same problem next to me.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘The one with the easy chair,’ pointing.
‘Nice,’ I said, imagining sitting in a chair at the top of the hill, the evening sun, cocktails, a small fire.

DIOGENES

Diogenes was a man who’d left his home when caught skimming flakes of metal from the coins of the currency imposed by the occupying Greeks.
He went to Athens, lived in a barrel in the central marketplace.
In the middle of the day, bright sunlight, Diogenes would walk around holding a lamp out in front of him and say if asked, ‘I’m looking for an honest man.’
He had a stick, would tap, poke, hit people to make his point.
He lived on the edge of society, had a dog as a companion. Now we’d call him ‘homeless,’ walk past him without a word or glance. Then, people would visit, ask questions.
He was a philosopher, the first Cynic. The Greek kynikos means ‘like a dog.’ Cynics think virtue is the only good, that its essence lies in self-control and independence.
Alexander the Great, the most powerful man in the world, who used violence to conquer and bring order was intrigued by Diogenes and invited him to a party.
Diogenes didn’t go to the party so Alexander went to see him and, recognising something of himself in this barrel dweller, said, ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘You can step to the side,’ said Diogenes, ‘you’re blocking the sun.’

GOOD PAIN

A had that massage. Left work early to get there on time.
‘That too deep?’ she said.
After a short pause I said, ‘I like deep.’
Then she said, ‘Good pain, yes?’

WHITE LIGHTNING (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)

White Lightning is a brand of cheap white cider (or more accurately fermented corn syrup) brewed by Scottish Courage in the UK. Although originally available in a 3 litre bottle (advertised as 3 litres for the price of 2 litres), in 2004 Scottish Courage announced that bottles of White Lightning would be produced at a maximum of 2 litres in order to restore value to the "cider" drinks market and to pursue the perhaps difficult goal of promoting responsible drinking amongst consumers of such products. The UK Department of Health recommends that males drink no more than 3–4 units of alcohol a day and women drink no more than 2–3. At 7.5% alcohol by volume, the 3 litre bottle contained 22.5 units of alcohol.

LOCATION

Stokes Croft is an area between North Street and Cheltenham Road, about a kilometre north of the centre of Bristol. It takes its name from John Stokes, a mediaeval inhabitant and mayor of the city in the late 14th century.

BOOKING

Texting

Me : I want a massge or reflexology, you at glos rd clinic today?
She: Sorry catnt do it 2day. Tomotnw 6ish?
Me : Let you know asap
Me : Cant do thurs thinking monday afternoon
She: Working mon. How bout next wed @enso pm.?
Me : I can be there around 5, when you working til?
She: . Not sure yet depend on booking..lets say 5ocl. It.s ok. Be well!
Me : Ok, thanks

LIGHTING UP

IF YOU DON’T KNOW HER...

‘Oi, Shaz?’ he said. ‘Shaz?’ calling from over the road outside the railings of the park in the middle of Portland Square.
‘What?’ said the woman stood on the corner I turned on my way back from Office World where I’d bought a ream of 100gm paper and a multipack of ink for the printer.
‘You know Lisa?’
‘No.’ She was thin had long blond hair and said, ‘Alright?’ as I passed and I said, ‘Alright,’ back to her.
‘The Newcastle bird?’
‘No, I said,’ she said, then. ‘What about her?’
‘Well, if you don’t know her...’