I got politely mischievous...23:59 Oct 05 2009
Times Read: 1,210
Still in recovery from ‘a good night,’ the night before, I got up late, with a bath as my plan and then, a trip to Karl’s.
Well by the time little Mother had organized the wash and I was awake properly, the grey skies were dissipating and, my folks were thinking of taking the washing back out, as there were light winds and, a blue sky.
And then, I plodded round seeking coffee and slow exercise, prior to facing my bath and the phone rang: it was Karl, going to go out with the girls over the road, [his kinda adopted niece’s, all of who kinda adopted him.] And, other than the one concerning the bath, his phone-call had sort of spoilt my plans: so I adapted.
{He typed with a grin.}
“Serving up in three minutes,” Dad says, so it’s ‘Save As’, then close-down the laptop, just before tea: roast chicken, roast potato’s, roast parsnips and sprouts, served with a good Rosé, then mixed fruit cheesecake sweet: My priority over writing.
And, a file being converted on the P.C., I sat wired still, laptop before me again, as the sky’s horizon turned golden outside.
I was going to talk of the journey, after the bath, which had been purely for me, when I’d worn my leather jacket-biker style, with the collar turned up, over a vertical blue-lined short-sleeve shirt and, wearing my black zip-up boots, the one’s with the hole in the left sole; I had got he train, after helping Little Mother, by folding some washing, [her second load & she was getting wheezy, but try stopping her.] I had decided to go to Birkenhead, in search of a whiskey and some discs, for a few of the files I acquired from Karl last week. ‘A reasonable plan,’ I had thought, especially as the weather was so pleasant.
As I trundled up to the station under a blue sky, I found myself talking to a gentleman to my left, with a similar attitude in Life to me, as I realized, by the time he got off a few stations later: and, he was as photosensitive as I am, with cheeks as gaunt.
And, much as I used to wonder ‘Is she my Birth Mother?’ when a woman of a certain age would pass me in Liverpool, I had wondered idly, ‘Is this my sperm donor?’
But, that aside I got my whiskey then the discs, before decided to trundle back home, slowly. And that was when I got politely mischievous.
I had crossed the road by the lights and, crossed back again; then walked across the road, and onto the grassy roundabout with the monument, which all the baby-Goth’s sit around, much as they used to, [to my knowledge] around the Victoria monument in James Street, Liverpool.
I asked on one the steps, wearing a striped top and hood: “Do you know what this means?” showing him my Ankh.
He hadn’t. So I’d then asked his small group, “Does anybody smoke?”
No-one had.
I then walked across the paved area, to where another small group sat on a low wall and asked the same question, one had an idea and another chipped in, with her thoughts. They knew ‘Egyptian,’ in essence.
And then, I’d asked my second question again, the same person piped up, so I gave him a smoke, and someone from the back came up and accepted one.
Mission accomplished, I had smiled then rose and walked across the grassy part of the roundabout, got to the road, dropped down and, crossing the road, hopped over the railings’ outside the station.
As it happens, I made a poor purchase with the discs: as out of the two packs, many will not verify. Que Sera sera, I had enjoyed the whiskey.
As it was, a little later little Mother asked me, “Will you change our bed tomorrow?” And then reminded me off blood tests on Monday.
I’d just looked answered ‘sure’, then later gone out to the Full Moon, to seek some assurance, before ‘Heroes’ and bed.
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