Just come back from tonight's Prom, which, of course, was held in the Albert Hall. As it was a warm and sunny afternoon with a refreshing breeze, it seemed to make sense to take in a late lunch then sit by the pond in the park. I mean the Serpentine, it's not really a pond, it has ocean-going liners on it.
Always fun to people watch. Little girl, maybe four years old, having a right go at her father "But you said we'd go to a big park, where's the big park?" "Here, here's the big park..." "This isn't a park, I want swings!" I seem to recall that conversation thirty-odd years ago.
A group of five walk past. Four wearing brown tops. Not identical. Two in t-shirts with quite different logos, one in a wrinkly-crinkly girly top, one in a short sleeved top. Speculating, did they agree to wear brown, and why didn't the fifth. Or is it chance and has any of them spotted that four out of five are wearing brown.
Punk woman walks past, shaved head, but long pony tail. "That looks awful", says Jimmy. Doesn't matter I say, when she changes her mind, she can grow it back. It's not like her face and arms are covered with tattoos. They're for life. "I hate it when their bodies are covered with studs and rings," he says. Doesn't matter, I say, when they change their minds, they can take the piercings out and the holes will heal. Not like tattoos, if you're body's covered in tattoos, they're there for life.
A few minutes later a woman walks past with her arms, chest and cleavage covered with a very obvious large tattoo pattern. See, I say, look at that woman. she's only young, and she's going to regret that when she grows up. Oh wait a minute, it's a flesh coloured jumper with a pattern on. Hey, that's ace! It looks like she's covered in tattoos but if she changes her mind, she can take it off tonight. I want one. I want one. How ace is that! They'd be so shocked at work. Oh superb! I want!
Boom boom boom in the distance. Remember that it's Carnival. On the way home, we got the civilised end of the carriage. Quite funny in the Tube Station. Don't these people ever go out? Seemed to be a load of late-teens clueless in how to negotiate a Tube Station. You know the difficult bit, walk towards escalator; walk up or stand on escalator, keep going in a forward direction, use functioning Oyster Card to open ticket barrier.
There was a strange vibe on the bus, edgy, nothing I could put my finger on, except for the four loud smelly obnoxious Roma, who apart form being loud, smelly and obnoxious weren't doing anything wrong.
Walking up the road we see a BMW reverse into a Beetle. It's all very well people who buy big cars to show how macho they are, but they've learnt to drive - and park - in a Vauxhall Nova and they can't handle it.
Then I hear someone trying to start a car. Doesn't sound right. It's not coughing and spluttering. Jimmy says, it looks too decrepit to drive. I think, it's being hot-wired, but I don't know that, I'll sound stupid. The car starts, and roars off at speed, the driver flashing his lights and honking at us. "Oh," said Jimmy. "That's Arthur's son, just come out from ten years inside, lied that he'd reformed, already stolen wheels from a car on his road. No licence, no insurance..."
"Did he hot wire that?" I said.
"Probably. It won't be his.."
I thought, must get onto the police. Then I thought again. What a clever bastard. By waving at us he's letting us know he's seen us, so if we grass him up, we're in shit. It's bound to have his DNA on it, and we can be sure his DNA is in the database.
I'm never quite sure what to do when suspicious. A few months ago I rang up with a description of a man I thought was behaving suspiciously. He had clearly seen us somewhat pissed coming out of the curry house. Every time we paused to chat to acquaintances, he dithered and lurked. When he realised that I scrutinised him closely, he ducked abruptly down a side road, so I gave his description to the police, explaining that I was safe and home and no crime had been committed, but describing him and his behaviour, maybe they'll take a look on CCTV. They never got back to me.
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