I’d like to thank a man in his 60s who I’ve never spoken to
for making me want to write on this blog again. When I had just graduated, I
was unemployed and living at my mother’s house. I was going out of my mind with
boredom and she was going out of her mind with my incessant talking and
inability to tidy up after myself. She kept asking how long exactly it was
going to be before I moved out. I told her I was going to finish my novel then
get a job. I had a go at this for a while, reached 30,000 words after three
months and gave up, tried to finish a non-fiction project instead, reached
30,000 words and gave up. But all the time I was starting projects and
stopping them, I wrote this blog. Like a sort of column that nobody really
read. Writing about the small observations I had from time to time about people
and things kept me sane.
Yesterday, I was sitting with a friend in Soho at a stupidly
early time to be sitting in a pub in Soho. As we talked about why we were both
skiving off work, and about India, where my next adventure is going to take
place and where she lived for a time, I saw a man get out of a taxi with two
lime green suitcases with blue straps across them that were identical to each
other. My friend and I talked some more. A man in his 60s had
been sitting across from us drinking beer from an
old-fashioned glass mug on his own. He’d finished his second glass and
started shuffling his things about. Taking a piece of paper from a pocket, he
placed it under his mug and started toward the top of the stairs that lead down
to the toilets. I thought this strange and stood up to take a look at the paper...
...it had a photo quality photo of Arnold Schwarzenegger on it and underneath was
typed ‘i’ll be back.’ Nobody else noticed. It made my day. And then I thought
back to a couple of things I had saved –
‘Week beginning 9th
July:
As I exited an
underground station, someone stood on the loose pavement slab I was standing
on, causing it to lift a little and giving me a free ‘ride.’
On the Bakerloo line, an
elderly man with a friar’s bald spot sat with his last two long white hairs
raised by the breeze running through the carriage.
At Waterloo station, a
Jamaican man in his 40s was wheeling a trolley around M&S. The trolley
contained old framed portraits. There were colourful signs attached to the side of the trolley. Shop staff approached the man. He smiled
and said ‘wagwan wagwan?!’ several times. Then, ‘I’m going to a party!’ Every single member of staff was smiling
as I left.
A man standing in the
gardens of a council estate block on a hill was wearing a kilt with traditional socks
as he sheared the plants at the edge of the grass.
Week beginning 16th
July:
An orange rubber duck
found on the pavement on a gray day…
And so, I don’t know how
regularly I’ll write, and it’s true that I’m only writing now because the
internet is broken in my house and the only thing to do is write. But we’ll
see. I hope I will.
