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The Creme Egg man…

Posted by Shirley on March 31, 2009 · Leave a Comment 

On Sunday, I saw a man in Victoria, at a bus stop outside the train station. He was a big man with a balding head and he mumbled so quietly to himself that it was hard to hear what he was saying, but it seemed like gibberish.  I think he must have had a lobotomy or something, because he had a scar all the way around half his head, similar to that of a crème egg. 

His ears were dead hairy, but not hairy enough to stop the wax from flowing out like a little waxy stream down to his hairy temples… that was like a crème egg too, the yellow bit of the crème egg.  I don’ t mean to turn you off crème eggs n’ stuff… 

He was focussed on one thing and one thing only and that was fag butts.  He couldn’t get enough of them.  His eyes combed the pavement and he bent down to pick up a flattened one that had only a centimetre in it. Even though he was a large man, he was bird like in the way he chose his fag butts. A longer fag was lying only a metre away from where he picked up the stubby one, I saw his eyes darting over to it, eyeing it up but he didn’t go for it cuz it would have been too big a risk for him. It would come with the possibility of some kind of confrontation, be it with the front of a bus, or a person shouting at him. He would then be forced out of his comfort zone and maybe he would have to run.

He decided he was better off not having any interactions.

Well I have been thinking of him since and wondering about him quite a bit…I was thinking that maybe he is from eastern europe or somewhere and he was a spy or knew some top secret information and he posed a threat to the government so they gave him a face lift and a lobotomy and shipped him over here and let him loose, dumped him on the streets like a stray dog…

…and so he wanders the streets and doesn’t have a clue who he is or where he comes from or what he did or who he saw and no one will ever recognise him because he looks nothing like his former self… He is just an empty shell walking the streets of London, picking up fag butts and mumbling

 

 

…

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Meatloaf…

Posted by Shirley on March 27, 2009 · 2 Comments 

 

 

 

Em.. If you heard someone singing Meat Loaf this morning at the crack a dawn, somewhere between 5:00 – 6:00am, it was me.  I am sorry but my lungs and voicebox rarely get the chance to collaborate and allow themselves to burst into a fully fledged song.  If you did hear it, you can’t complain too much cuz I was whizzing by so quickly on my bike that you would have only caught a sentence or too and you would have had a nice fade in, fade out effect.  That would have been quite soothing for you I’d imagine, no?

Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell was the album of choice this morning and is always good for a sing-a-long.
 


I had only one ipod earphone in, as I needed the other ear for the road.  I know all the words of all the songs on that album and I took great pleasure in hamming it up:

I poured it on and I poured it out,
I tried to show you just how much I care,
I’m tired of words and Im too hoarse to shout,
But you’ve been cold to me so long,
I’m crying icicles instead of tears…

I like imagining I am a big fat man with long hair and I am wearing a white frilly silk shirt when I am singing that song, I actually feel like I am Meat Loaf and that I have just been dumped for the umpteenth time and I sing this song like it is the final straw…

 

…And she kept on telling me
She kept on telling me
She kept on telling me..

At one stage, I got so carried away, that I jumped off my bike, whipped it close to my chest and started strumming the spokes. That was kinda embarrassing…

 

 

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Wildlife…

Posted by Shirley on March 23, 2009 · 2 Comments 

I saw this fella on my way home this evening:
 
 

 

He was on the footpath on Linden Grove!  He was a young fella.  I frightened him as I went bombing past on my bike.  He flew up on the wall then.  I pulled the brakes on the bike, did a quick U turn, whipped my phone out and captured him walking along the wall. 
 

 

 

He was just as nosy as I was; he was looking at me with his beady eyes.  He was checking out my new bike I think. 
My new bike:
 

 

 


And would you believe that up until about six weeks ago, on the mornings that the tide would be in, I would see a seal on the thames as I cycled up the path.  He was there like clockwork, just chilling out on a floating wooden palette, having the time of his life… I swear to God, no word of a lie …I have been seeing him most mornings for like four months now, he even recognises me and kinda nods his head when i turn the corner… I always stop for a minute and just stay a while in the quiet…listening to the water lapping and looking at him, but since the mornings have been getting brighter I’ve not seen him at all… 
I wondered what brought him up the Thames.  Someone said the Thames is clean these days and there are a lot of fish.  I think he liked the bright lights of the city.  He was always looking around, there would be the small planes flying into the city airport, the lights of the cars across the river, the ferry boats and I think he liked lounging and just watching all the action.
This is a kind of a bad photo of him as I only had my phone camera on me…

 

 

 

So now, on my travels to work so far I have seen:
Foxes
Seals
Pheasants

 

 

 

(and can I remind you, this is London…Zone 2, I am talking about…)

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A hospital visit for my pride and joy…

Posted by Shirley on March 2, 2009 · Leave a Comment 

Well this is it.

My laptop is going into hospital tonight.

It is lying on my bed as I type and it’s in it’s bag ready to be airlifted at 4.30pm this evening. I would love to be able to bring it in right now but unfortunately I had to come to work, this enables me to pay for the care and attention it will receive at the hospital y’see, that’s how it works. I am getting off an hour earlier though to bring it in.
I won’t stop for something to eat, I will grab my laptop and go.

My laptop has cancer.

Cancer of the graphic chip.

It’s in a lot of pain and it’s got a dangerously high temperature, which is common for it’s breed. I didn’t sleep a wink last night worrying about it. I have bombarded my brothers phone with constant texts asking him questions. I have bored everyone within earshot about my worries and fears. I have dreamt about it on Friday night and again on Saturday night. It’s all I have thought about all weekend. I have researched it’s symptoms online and have come away frightened by chatting with fellow forum-mites who tell me it’s fit for the scrap heap.

I am afraid it will be a terminal illness but the man in the repair shop sounded hopeful. His name is Steve. We had a little diagnostic chat about it’s symptoms and I told him about what the man in the shop said and he kinda got annoyed with me and told me not to listen to those guys as they ‘don’t have the knowledge’. Steve said he has special thermal paste, I am not sure what that’s for but he even invited me to watch a bit of the operation and to look at the machines. I said I would be very interested in that.

Anyway, I have to find a way to make the next four hours go quickly.

I will let you know the outcome of this grave situation.

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