BEST BOY

‘Not so warm today, is it?’ she said walking into the laundry, carrying a square plastic washing up bowl out of which, when she reached the extractor and pushed its lid aside, she took a blue wet cloth, probably a towel, my glance was cursory to avoid embarrassment, which she, with one flowing movement, put into the extractor closed the lid and pressed the ‘on’ button.
‘It’s supposed to be hotter later,’ I said.
‘In the afternoon?’
‘Twenty-seven, or is that Wednesday…or tomorrow?’ I said. ‘Tomorrow is Wednesday,’ mostly to myself…
‘They said it’s going to drop to twenty on Friday,’ she said, ‘which is a bit easier.’
‘That’s true, it’s a bit hot for me the way it’s been,’ getting personal.
She sat leaned against the extractor, facing me.
‘We had the most uncomfortable experience yesterday at the cinema,’ she said. ‘We went for a preview, it was free so we thought we’d go…’
‘…at the new one in the Circus?’ pointing in the general direction.
‘No, at the Odeon, yeah?’
‘Yes, I know it.’
‘Anyway, it was a preview, the gangster film just out, oh, what’s it called, “Dillinger”? or it’s about him…’
‘…the one with Johnny Depp?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I loved it, a really good film. But there’s no air-conditioning in there so we were sweating all the way through and at the end everyone got up and left without even waiting to see who’s the best boy.’

STATEMENT

I bought a hat. The sign outside the shop said, ‘summer hats now in.’
Inside the shop a woman was trying on a hat, pulling it side to side, watching herself in the mirror.
‘There’s a mirror here you can use,’ said a woman’s voice behind me, coming to my rescue.
I turned round to see her place carefully from behind the counter, a mirror. I tried on two hats.
‘The straw ones better,’ she said. ‘That one’s just nothing, but the straw one makes a statement.’
‘You think so?’ I said – a moment’s pause - ‘Then, I’ll take the straw one,’ I said, ‘I want a hat that makes a statement.’
She took the hat. I put the other one back on the hat stand.
‘I’ll cut the label off,’ she said using scissors she picked up from beside the till. ‘You don’t want that flapping around.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘it’d undermine the statement.’

LIKE US

The money hasn’t come through so I phoned the garage said I’d be there later in the week not this morning. The man I spoke to was friendly and I finished the conversation with, 'Lovely job.'.
Caught the number seven bus from Whitehall Road and sat next to a man had long grey hair and a beard, and behind an older heterosexual couple.
The Lawrence Hill roundabout through Old Market to the new complex stop that the bus drivers like but creates more dangers for pedestrians. It was here a woman, wearing full-length dress, included a long headscarf, got up to get off the bus.
‘It’s disgusting, isn’t it?’ said the woman in front of me to the man next to her.
‘Is it?’ he said.
‘You wouldn’t know it was a man or a woman,’ she said. ‘I think we should know that’s all, it's rude,’ she said. ‘And if people come over here, well, they ought to fit in, do things like us.’

WORM CENSUS

It was the second time I’d seen Pension Plan the morning of. The first on my way to and now, on my way back from dropping money in an envelope off at Fly’s
‘Morning,’ I said, and having noticed the handle of a garden tool I assumed was a spade, sticking up behind him out of a pannier, ‘You on your way to the allotment?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘Willsbridge, dig up some worms and count them.’
‘You mean do a worm census?’
He laughed, said, ‘Yes, and count the different species of worm as well.’
‘I didn’t know there were different species of worm.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Have a nice day, then,’ I said as he made to leave.
‘It’s my birthday too, today,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m going out.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I said and, ‘Happy birthday,’ as I waved him goodbye.

A MOVE

‘Is that Four’s girlfriend?’ I said.
‘It’s his beard,’ she said.
‘Beard?’ I said. ‘You sure? Last time I saw him he was sitting on the window sill, said he was waiting for his girlfriend.’
We were in her kitchen. I could see Four, fussing around a car like he does, like I do.
‘Biffo reckoned he was gay but not out,’ she said. ‘That’s why he’s got the beard.’
‘I can’t see it,’ I said.
‘He’s not very soft,’ she said. ‘Cuddly, I mean.’
‘He always seems desperately sad to me,’ I said. ‘Lonely…he always says “young man” to me if we stop for a chat, which we do when he calls me over, takes me to one side, once I came out the lift on the ground floor and he wanted me to watch him chase some people out the flats.’
‘“Young man”, though,’ she said. ‘Sounds like a move.’

NOT LIKE IT IS FOR US

The door opened right to left with a frustrated sigh, and there was one of the single women from above. The one didn't come to the meeting to protect the interests she'd thought she'd secured and lost the vote.
‘That was a sigh,’ I said, reaching out.
‘It’s taking so long,’ she said, laughing like it wasn’t funny, the length of time, the interruptions.
We stopped twice more on the way down, the second time, ‘This is typical,’ she said, ‘when you’re late, in a rush, you know?’
‘If I lived on this floor I’d use the stairs,’ I said. ‘I mean what’s the problem? Take a few flights be quicker than waiting.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It's not like it is for us.’

FUCKING ON THE BUS

‘Fucking Bedminster,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t go there,’ he said. ‘If I did there’d be more fucking chance of bumping into him,’ he said.
They’d got on at Old Market.
‘Two to the Centre. Thanks.’
Sat on separate seats until the roundabout – not far.
‘He’s a fucking paedophile, he is,’ said the man sat next to him, in front of me.
‘A paedophile?’
‘Sixty-five and shagging her? He’s a fucking paedophile.’
‘He’s not sixty-five, he’s sixty-two.’
‘Sixty-two then, and shagging her, I'm telling you,' he said, ‘he’s a fucking paedophile.’

WHERAIR ET CAY FRAME

‘Michael, Michael, Michael,’ shouted the woman along Jamaica Street as I walked up from the bottom end of Hillview.
‘Michael, Michael, Michael,’ she shouted as I stepped on to Jamaica and she, followed by two other women and a man who carried a can of drink, started pointing the direction of Stokes Croft.
‘Michael, come here you,’ and she reached him, hugged him.
He waved at the three people behind her who all started saying, ‘Michael, Michael…’ overlapping each other until they reached him too.

alleyway-Dove Street-entrance-lift

‘Yay Bully?’ he said when the lift door opened on its way up, a few floors below mine.
‘Er, no?’ I said.
‘Weal, I may a'weal come up wi' yay thay gi doon'n see i e’s thay're.’
‘Ok,’ I said as he stepped in, joined me.
‘Yay 'ear thar noise frame thee foourth?’ he said.
‘What, just now?’
‘Yeh,’ he said, ‘thay wee shootin' 'n' swearin' 'n' everytheen.’
‘The lift was on three when I came in, so maybe it came from there.’
‘Maybe,' he said. 'It wear lewd, wherair et cay frame.’

THE BOSS

There are cages on the lower floors of the flats in which tenants can store stuff of theirs they don’t want in their home.
They were talking, leaning on the railings of the walkway outside Carolina. First, so not to disturb them, I walked past, then turned back to take the opportunity.
‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ having wondered what they might be talking about, smoking, “tenants” was the one word I heard on my approach before they stopped, looked at me, along the railings.
‘Yes,’ said the nearest, the caretaker of my block, the one I’d gone to ask.
‘There any storage cages free?’ I said.
‘Oh,’ said the furthest caretaker. ‘You phoned last week didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I forgot to pass it on.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m here now and asking.’
‘Let me see,’ said the main (as far as I was concerned) man. ‘Trouble is people die and because it wasn't recorded if they had a cage or not their stuff sits there for years. We had a search recently found one but like I say because it wasn’t recorded we don’t know how many more there are to be emptied for someone else to use...'
- his profile, matt skin, white teeth -
'...I’ll have to check with the Boss,' he said, 'and he’s away for two weeks.’
‘Oh, okay.’
‘You just moved in?’ said Furthest.
‘Ee’s been here ages,’ said Main, then to me, ‘You do know there’s not enough for everyone to have one?’
‘Er, yeh, I do,’ I said, and after a slight pause, ‘Okay, well, I’ll leave it with you.’
‘Yeh, like I say, I’ll have to talk to the Boss.’

ONE TIME

There was resistance to adventure, a fear of the world both inside and outside of the home.
She hated him, and took revenge with thirty years of marriage. She called it duty but fooled no one.
‘I can’t do anything for you,’ said the psychiatrist they went to see.
She survived a childhood trauma which came her way from before she was born. Together they created a potent brew of despair and yearning.
He said, ‘She doesn’t know how to love.’
‘What about you?’ I asked him one time.

NOT EVERYONE WOULD KNOW

He showed me the hash.
‘A fiver,’ he said.
‘How much is there?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Anyway they’re getting some more soon,’ he said. ‘They’re waiting for giro day.’
Pause.
‘For a minute there I was back in the nineteen eighties,’ I said. ‘“Waiting for giro day”’s not a phrase I’ve heard, I don’t think since, well, then.’
‘Nor me,’ he said. ‘It’s like that joke, “what’s green and gets you pissed?”’
‘Not everyone would know.’

I DON'T WANT TO BE LATE

Four was sitting on the sill of the Hein Gericke window. He waved.
I waved, 'Hello,' I said.
'I'm waiting for my girlfriend,' he said taking off his sunglasses. 'Her car's having an MOT today so she's coming down on the bus.'
'Well,' I said. 'Nice day for it.'
'They say it's going to rain later.'
'I thought there might be some thunder yesterday, the way it felt,' I said.
By this time I was past him on my way to town.
'Yes, it was very heavy.'
'Anyway,' I said, thinking it time to go, 'I'm meeting someone. I don't want to be late.'

BARRY AND HIS MISSUS

Wearing a pink towel jumpsuit, crossing Jamaica Street towards the hostel, she shouted at a woman was pulling on the handle of one of the doors into the building, 'Oi, wait up.'
'What?'
'Wait,' she said, 'I've got something.'
'Fuck off.'
'No, wait,'said Pink, her hand in the bag she carried. 'Look what I got.'
'Fuck off,' said the other woman, then with affection, 'You little cunt.'
Both of them laughed, the dog barked and looking up I saw its head poking out the top corner window.
'Does it recognise me from the lift?' I thought recalling how it used to watch me, its white rimmed black eyes, as if eyeing up lunch. 'Could it remember how frightened I was?'
Whyjay is always friendly, sometimes stopping for a chat, never asking for money. His friends took the fall, got an ASBO excludes them from the estate on threat of arrest. That's why the dogs are in the hostel not the flats.
In the park sitting on the top nearside bench a man played guitar. Some people don't like the hostel being where it is, they think it lowers the tone, brings trouble. I say, 'If you don't like living here, move out, get a transfer like Barry and his missus.'

NOT DEAD YET

'You get the e-mail I sent you?' she said as she passed me the blister pack.
'Which one?' reaching across her kitchen table.
'The one about the side effects of tramadol with what ever you take for the migraine?'
'Sumatriptan.'
'Is that it?'
'Sumatriptan?'
'Yes.'
'That's the generic name.'
I pushed the tabs out.
'How many of those you taking?'
'Two,' I said. 'I haven't had anything else this morning.'
'It's if it's in your system,' she said. 'I looked it up, see what the side effects were and sent you an e-mail which I guess you read because you're not dead yet.'

WITH MY OWN EYES

If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, my own eyes I tell you, I would never have believed it – a grown man, yes, that's what I said, a grown man, lying on his back on a sofa, waving his arms and legs in the air like a baby and - this is the good bit – shouting, 'Look I'm peeling a banana with my feet,' as he peeled a banana using only his feet...and when he'd done, he ate it.
I saw it, I tell you, with my own eyes.