Thursday, February 16, 2006

time passes

It was cold and spotting with rain. Through the trees blazed a cream-coloured light, warping the tree-trunks; as Kev drove out of the car-park we saw that this was a white sunset getting underneath the fierce weather. Looping back on the main road we felt small between the toes of a hugely-arched rainbow, splashed into steadier rain and so into town, while we listened I think to the Sex Pistols but this was inside a dance mix and I didn't ask.

I collected my car and didn't blink at the bill because I'd got ready for it being almost that much. The shoes were all broken, I said to her to show that I'd already had a phone conversation about it. We conversed about a house that we both had links with and it reminded me of a sad story but I tried not to look upset because we always got on well. I liked my car with the brakes working. Verdi's Falstaff was howling and being pinched by the merry wives; I drove straight back to work, and was briefly puzzled by white flowers in the cream light, as if it was a Tuscan summer and then I remembered where I was and they were snowdrops again.

Eventually everyone went home and I started the differential backup. Hermann found me smoking beside my car and he told me a complicated story about how he and I would never be like those fat bastards who had better cars than us and who went home early and how someone he knew had wangled a people-carrier and a jacuzzi and all because they read the small print. Never mind, he sighed, I'll never change anything. He locked up the store-room and went back indoors.

Then after an hour or two Dennis found me and he was obviously worried about the lights still being on, so I promised him I'd close up. Moving the data took much longer than I thought. It was black outside and hail was bouncing on the moss. I seemed to be regretting the Boro match that I'd hoped to watch on TV but gradually I realized that I was still thinking about the conversation in the garage.

When I'd finished everything I texted Vinnie who was on call. He texted back: Congratulations, I can't believe all your blog and poetry work took so long :-) Then I felt better and lit up again even though I could go home and sat there playing Pinball with the other hand.


Post a Comment

<< Home

Powered by Blogger