The View from Parson Street Nose

There was a traffic snarl-up on York Road that snaked right back to Cutter's Row.

I idled away the time looking in the wing mirror of my jalopy, watching three boys and their devil dogs drawing ever closer to me along the pavement.

As they reached my car, an adventuring cat stalked out of the lilac bushes right in the path of the approaching pack.

"Diesel, no!"

One of the dogs (the largest of the barrel-bellied beauties) went potty as his poor owner hung on tightly to the lead. Diesel the dog vaulted forwards so violently the unfortunate lad's trousers lost their fragile grip on his underpants concertinaing down over his knees.

"Me kecks!" he cried, desperately trying to restrain his bucking hell-hound. "Get me kecks."

His friends pounced on him. Using their free hands they pulled up his drooping drawers with such force his yelp could be heard all the way down to the bed shop.

The cat meanwhile had taken one look at the terrifying trio of slavering beasts and had pelted away through the traffic to the relative safety of Whitehouse Street.

Fine drizzle sparkled in the sunshine when I reached the East Street Fruit Market.

"I loves your stenshions, Stace," said a girl shovelling peaches into a plastic bag.

Instinctively I turned expecting to see a head leaden down with tumbling tresses but was instead confronted by a pair of eyelashes so long they appeared to be in need of their accompanying dust-pans.

"They're lush, aren't they?" replied Stace. "Some woman behind Tesco's did 'em for me the other night."

"'Mazin'," agreed her friend. "I reckons you could sweep a footballer clean off his feet with they."

"I could if I batted 'em 'ard enough," laughed Stace.

I'd forsaken lunch that day as I was due at Mrs Bonnet's Jam Jamboree in the afternoon. But by 12 my hunger pangs had been lured in by the enticing aromas of George's café for a swift snackette.

"…and I'll 'ave a big brekkers, please, Love," said a woman leaning on the counter.

"They stop at 11.30," said the assistant apologetically.

"Oh no, Ede," said the woman's companion, her voice croaking with concern. "What're you going to do?"

"Well," said Ede, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "I shall just have to console myself with an all-day-breakfast, shan't I?"

As she spoke these words my stomach let out such an almighty rumble both women swivelled in my direction.

"It sounds to me as if you needs one too, my lover," said Ede, picking up her mug of tea and beetling off with it.

But I knew Mrs Bonnet would never forgive me if I couldn't face her fondant fancies so I settled for a hot, buttered tea-cake instead.