Tuesday, 11 August 2009


My Auntie Is Round The Corner With My Kebab.

We’ve been at the cinema. She knows where I park. So she has parked behind me. After the film we sat in the bar till closing time, its after midnight now. So we are walking back to the cars. One parked behind the other. We stand in the street, talking, beside my car. Two guys stagger down the street. They are carrying on, shove each other a little. There is a car parked behind hers. A couple of foot from the curb. A window sitting open. A couple sitting as though waiting for something. The older of the two guys leans towards the car. Shouts something, carries on. Here we go, I say to her. He says something, disappearing behind her back. Pardon, I didn’t catch it all. The younger keeps on going down the street. I asked if you had a blade. I’m totally going to stab him! Oh. Sorry mate, can’t help you. He stops and grins. I’m not really going to stab him. He’s my wee cousin, and he’s doing my head in. He makes another joke about stabbing him. Before deciding to change his tune - no, actually, I’ve got a kebab... round the corner… I’ve got a fork… but I really need a knife to eat it. You’ve got a kebab round the corner? I hope someone is looking after it for you! - I say. He replies. Yeah my auntie is holding it for me. She points down the stairs to her side – there is a restaurant there, you could always ask them for a knife. No, no – he insists - the less people who know about it the better. Who know about your kebab? – I ask. Yeah, exactly. Anyway, what have you been up to? We’ve been to the cinema – I tell him. What did you see – he asks. Adam. How was it? Wasn’t bad. I heard a review of it on the radio, that Edith Bowman on radio 1, the clip made it sound decent, but I thought what does Edith know - she is just a radio DJ – what would you give it out of five? Oh, maybe a 3? He shakes his head - god you’re sitting on the fence, you’re just like Edith mate, you’re nothing but a radio DJ! His cousin re-appears at the next corner and waves at him. He glances at his phone, he has received a message, he shrugs. Then notices the phone, and says – um this phone, its pink, its not mine… its my mums! And shoves it back in his pocket. He sighs – glad I stopped to talk to you guys, you’ve been great, I needed a break. He then hugs us both, in a dude fashion, and goes off to catch his cousin. We look at each other and shake our heads, say our goodnights and head home.

Labels: , ,

Monday, 10 August 2009


The Cat

There is a man feeding the cats as we come up. An older man in sturdy jeans and a t-shirt, surrounded by 16 milling cats.
"Hello", we tell him. "We just wanted to see them."
He nods. It is the obvious thing to do and he has no further questions. People who love cats know this. Cats must be watched. At all times.
He puts out one bowl after the other. The cats mill around, brushing him with upright tails, getting on their hind legs to paw at him. There is a constant purr swelling through the air. One tiger striped tom gallops past us on his way to the bowls, he got held up and is now terrified that there may not be anything left for him to eat, ever.
The man moves around his charges, petting every one of them, diligently, fairly. "Can't leave any out", he explains. "Would make them unhappy."
It is our turn to nod. Of course you can't. Of course it would.
One little tom, white with russet patches, leaves the crowd to come and say hello. He is old, his eyes are crusted. His ears are odd. Not only pink, as is usual with white cats, but ragged, as if chewed off. We comment on that.
"It's the sun, or something", says the man. "It just gets worse. The vet says there's nothing we can do."
We pet the little cat with the chewed off ears. It turned its back on the food bowl just for us. We pet it a little harder.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]