Sunshine and snot do not, I tell thee, make for a good summer.
And- she whimpers – things are not going too well in the old wallet. Today I had to wash my hair with soap and the dregs of a conditioner I found from a left over hair dye kit. (not that I dye my hair goddammit…!! I am a natural brassy blonde.) When I went outside I was smothered in aphids, which promptly swooned and stuck on the soapy residue. Even now I am finding the poor little blighters in my fringe.
Today I was walking to CAB and in that dark energy spot near where Dad’s tyre got slashed I saw a man on the ground and a large, red-faced man bending over him. I trotted forward trying not to swallow the aphids clustering around my barnet. The man on the ground was sitting up but disorientated. His forehead and nose were running blood. The red faced fat man looked to me as I drew close. I had my phone out and he nodded at it with relief. He was sweating and anxious.
‘I saw it happen. I was just over there and he literally stumbled and dived at the ground. Four people just walked past before I could get here. ‘
He was stuck on the fact he had seen four people walk past the accident. He wasn’t from around here.
We both got down on our knees to try and see where the man was hurt. He was called Paddy. He was irish. He was off his tits on Speical Brew. (I made that diagnosis from the fact he kept trying to drink the cans he had just bought even though it looked like he had fractured his wrist. I Know I know… can’t rule out diabetes, Parkinsons, concussion… but there was something those Special Brew cans.)
‘Goodbye Paddy’ I hissed over the emergency man’s shoulder. ‘Good luck’
Paddy laughed and gibbered and bled a little more and the nice fat man gave me a low finger wave and a slightly traumatised smile. He was still thinking of the four people who had just walked past when Paddy had fallen. He was a good man.