Tuesday, 17 April 2007

late night journey

Written in my diary Sunday night and transcribed Tuesday night. Sorry about the delay and the lack of posts over the weekend. I had a friend staying, a party, an overnight. It kept me well away from the PC.

The air is cool and still as I step out of the door, tired from the heat of the day. Sound should carry a long way in the stillness, but it doesn't. A car goes past the end of the road; it seems to explode out of nowhere and is past in just an instant. The world seems silent and empty as I walk down the road.

On the grass behind the bus stop some kids are playing football in the dark. I wonder idly whether my uppermost thought is to be pleased to see teenagers taking voluntary physical exercise so late, or moral indignation that they are out at this time on their own. Some of them look like they should have been tucked up in bed long ago and are far too young to be out unsupervised so late on a school night. I wonder if their parents know where they are. A few of them aren't playing; they sit nestled in the daffodils between the pitch and the road, sitting close together and trying to keep their voices down.

A car turns in from the junction at the end of the road, the driver taking a long hard drag on his cigarette. The cherry glows brightly as he indicates and turns into a side road. As I turn to watch, I notice two cyclists cycling towards me. They approach on almost silent wheels and communicate through silent looks and glances, not saying a word, before swerving off in another direction.

A man walks past with a dog on a lead as a cat crosses a road ahead. I wonder at how calm both the animals are, but then I realise that they can't have seen each other as the man suddenly starts running, dragged on by the dog. The cat easily gets away, unlumbered by a human and a leather lead.

I see my bus before I can hear it, reflected in the shop window opposite. It rounds the corner with its windows blazing. I put out my arm to stop it and get on.


As I leave the next morning and head back to catch the bus home to bed, the cherry blossom petals are like discarded confetti in the gutter.

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