It's a time of contrast. Compare and contrast. I'm being bounced around these weeks, used and dumped according to who's sick/been sick/hungover. For a few frantic days I'm delivering half of a walk for a postie who's recovering from a (2nd) stroke ('you don't get a third!' states my mum chillingly)
and also delivering a round in Hest Bank first thing. I don't knowHest Bank apart from cycling through it a few times along the canal. Very nice it is too, upmarket, leafy, aspirational etc. It's also pretty boring but boasts great views. I see a few people pottering around on my days out here but mostly I'm in a mad sweaty rush to complete this and catch the bus in order to be able to deliver the half round in time. Of course there's only ONE bus an hour out of this place...ONE!!! I'm in luck the first day as it's late but the rest of the week it's hopeless. I calm down a bit and take my time. A young woman passes me, I say 'good morning' and she replies in kind. She then says something that I don't catch, 'pardon?' ...'God bless you!!!' she beams. Hmm, if God had blessed me I wouldn't be traipsing out here. An hour or so later I'm off the bus and back in the real, dog shit littered, world of 'over the river' Lancaster. Swarms of kids are gathering round me. They're not feral and foul mouthed like some I've met but polite: they just want elastic bands. I'm pestered until I hand over a fistful of red bands. At one point I sit on a wall to wait for the driver to drop off my last bag. Big mistake, they gather in vast numbers now. I just want to listen to World at One... 'got any bands?' enquires a young girl. 'please?' I prompt, to no avail. 'No' I lie, 'I've given them all to your mates'. The girl then proceeds to feel my coat, frisking me like Fagin's star pupil. That's enough for me, I check my pocket..wallet, keys, phone, and walk away. They've annoyed me now. Another cycle up to me 'got any bands?', 'yes thanks' I grump and walk on. What do they do with them all? I imagine they're constructing a giant elastic-sling to catapult themselves to a better world; one with shit-free pavements, working gates and dogs hanging from the lampposts. I've grown to hate this place now. The relentless grime and misery has got to me. The kids seem ok but the majority of people on this estate are just aggressive and wirey, or drop down pissed. And the dogs. Vicious ugly brutes that want to kill me, every day. Shut up. I know where they are now so I'm prepared but now and then one jumps out of nowhere to shit me up...putting the fear of God into me, making me angry, fearful and tired. A cetain house, the gate is off the latch, the dog mustn't be out in the garden as it usually is. I put the mail though the door and leave the gate as I found it. I carry on. I'm further down the street when I hear some shouting. A large lady is in the afore-mentioned garden hurling abuse at me. 'close the fucking gate I've got a dog' she rants. I tell her that if I see her dog she won't be getting her mail and that I found the gate off the latch. 'I don't fucking care i'm reporting you' she informs me. I walk on. I can't be arsed fighting this level of ignorance. True to her word she does report me and and has the temerity to accuse me of hurling abuse at her. She ended up swearing at the manager on the phone thus making me look good and doing herself no favours. Now I just harbour dark thoughts of torturing her fucking dog and doing unpleasant things to her fat ugly face. I used to be a nice person really. The day after her dog is out so I wait, I'll give her a chance. She waddles out and snatches the mail wordlessly from my hand. 'Thank you!!' I beam. Hate rises. Life goes on. Census forms to deliver. There's a wonderful programme on R4 presented by Phil Jupitus about 'Calvin and Hobbes'. I devour this aural treat whilst dodging dog eggs and falling masonry. It arouses so many happy memories and the final pay off of the programme brings me to tears. Innocent times indeed. In the programme they speculated as to what Calvin would have become in later life. I shudder to think...
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