The View from Parson Street Nose
By PARSONSTNOSE | Thursday, September 27, 2012, 08:28
"I'm not sure if I should be waiting for a bus or an ark," said my companion on the stop as the rain spouted off the canopy into the road.
"I think I'll take my chances with the 75," I replied, watching her tug the hood of her poly tunnel of a coat back into place.
"Just as many animals aboard," she chortled, sticking out her hand when the bus splashed into view.
Bumping along the road-soaked streets my head was full of plans for the Christmassy material I was going to purchase in Calico.
"Hon, how about aubergine and black for the living space?"
The woman who'd spoken was struggling to control an armful of cushion pads while her partner was busily thumping rolls of fabric in and out of the shelves.
I paused to examine a price tag.
"Too noughties," replied Hon, a trendy looking chap with a peculiar fringe. "I'm thinking feature footstool and scatters in hot orange with accents of warm brown."
"You're spot-on, Hon," moaned Cushion-woman, her face aglow with adulation. "Brown is so now. Oh!" she squeaked. "I've had the most amazing idea…how about warm brown for the kitchen splash?"
"Not sure about brown tiles, Sweets," replied Hon. "It's a bit Dairy Milk isn't it?"
I had to walk away at this point due to the coughing fit I was experiencing.
A little later on I was outside Bedminster Flowers amassing an armload of veg.
"So affordable," I murmured, seizing another broccoli stalk to add to my collection.
"Ar," agreed a voice by my elbow. "I've 'ad that…it's right tasty. I've 'ad the caulis too. And as for them beans..."
"You should be on commission." I smiled at the diminutive lady in a rain-hood hopping about by my side.
"I don't think 'es got any pears today, my love," she said sticking her neck out like a pecking pigeon. "Apples is good though."
She was still hovering around the produce when I came back later with a selection of second-hand paperbacks from the YMCA.
One morning when I'd completed a lap of Asda I was struggling to keep my wonky trolley under control.
"You go and do the shoppin' then, Maff, while I sits here," bawled a girl landing heavily on the wall. I couldn't fail to notice the lime-green, sky-scraper-high platforms strapped to her feet.
"Why did you wear those ruddy shoes shoppin'?" Maff was looking a bit miffed.
"Cos they're lush," replied the girl lighting a cigarette and blowing a column of smoke at him.
"But you can't walk in 'em."
"And your point is?"
Maff scuffed away into the store leaving his lady-love posed on the wall pointing her foot right in the path of my bucking trolley. Suddenly my wheel struck a stone and the trolley lurched towards her twirling citrus-coloured shoe.
"'Ere, watch it, you!" snapped the girl. "These was expensive."
I felt unable to comment and rattled off, fuming.
"It's all right, Love, you can get 'er when you brings the trolley back," said a bluff-faced fellow, sniggering into his hoodie as he overtook me.