Waiting For Kylie
In my home town I am walking on the main street. The snow has melted and there is a low watery sun which I shield my eyes against. From behind, a young emaciated man shouts out. The call is inappropriate with his business being declared in public.
'Haw!' he cries like a squawking crow in a nasal rattle. His voice is deafening, I look round slightly startled, he is oblivious to me, his eyes fixed on someone further along the road. 'Whaur i yi gon ya f****n' dickheed?'
'Shoap!' comes the simple reply. A girl with multi-dyed hair, badly applied make-up and more bling than Harrods, looking equally emaciated as her swain spins to face the boy.
What shop? I think and look about myself, the street is full of them on both sides.
'Moan hurry up, Kelly's waitin' oan me.'
'F***k that Kylie, av nae money, am gon hame!' the boy says simply with a surly scowl. 'Yur always runnin' efta hur.'
'Naw am no, moan way us.'
'Yur a selfish b*****d so ye ur.'
'Aw get a grip' he says shaking his head and turning away.
The boy has walked off, scurrying and bustling away while the girl looking momentarily lost screams after him.
'Aye ya f****n' fanny, me an you ur feenished'
The young lad has gone, unconcerned about her threat to end the affair and maybe secretly delighted that they are no longer - for now - an item. She grimaces, madness reflected in her eyes. She stands there unsure what to do next.
People who had been watching this open air performance try to hide their enjoyment, but the glee of the moment is reflected in their eyes. She scans them quickly as she looks up the street for any sign of her erstwhile boyfriend. She turns quickly and the audience equally quickly looks away, starts whistling, burying their heads in their newspapers or stares at goods and points at shop windows.
She looks back up the street 'JAMES!' she roars at the top of her voice, mutters and curses and turns away and strides off to look for Kelly. Someday, and I can imagine it, when they are both old and grey they will still be shouting at each other at the top of their voices in the street, their poorly clad grandchildren huddled at their feet.Mother and Daughter
I am always fascinated by family resemblances. The other day I noticed a mother and daughter, the likeness was uncanny, walking on the main street. The younger woman was pushing a baby in a go-chair, but they could not have been mistaken for anything other than mother and daughter. The hair, their noses, even the way they walked in a semi-waddle, splay-footed shuffle was remarkable.
They spoke clear and precise. 'Do you want to have a look in Marks and Spencers?' the mother nodded toward the famous high street shop. 'Well' the daughter muses, 'They've got a sale on.'
'Oh, and I just remembered' the mother's eyes lit up. 'They've had the cafe refurbished, new chairs, tables, nice colours, kind of candy stripe, you know what I mean, stainless steel finish to the tabletops, and... they have an excellent selection of cakes.'
'Don't think we need cake mum' the girl says smiling.
'And the loos' the mother continues ignoring her daughter's rejection of confectionary. 'They're absolutely spotless!'
'Mum' the daughter interrupts laughing. 'You need to get out more.'Sergio Burns