The View from Parson Street Nose

"Where on earth is he going with that tree?"

The Skipper pointed out of the van window to a man heading up St John's Road dragging a Christmas tree by its trunk. Dangling baubles and wisps of tattered tinsel still clung to some of its branches.

"Doesn't he know the council collects those?" Skipper stuck his head out, goggling at the spectacle.

"Perhaps he has other plans for it," I suggested struggling to stop the dog from leaping out of the open window. "Come on now, Dear, the traffic's moving again and that man behind is going to wear his horn out."

A little further on Skipper shouted again. "I don't believe it, there's another bloke with a tree…and that one's got flippin' lights still on it, I can see the ruddy plug banging along the pavement."

We had to stop over the far side of the car park as everyone and his dog was heading for Asda.

Skipper bounded out, leaving me and Pickle to stare out of the window as the rain started to pour down again.

A car pulled up in front of us and a woman got out in a hip-length, floppy white cardy.

Round she went to her boot and began hauling out bags of recycling. She stuffed dozens of plastic pop bottles in through the container's brushes, seemingly oblivious to the driving rain.

"I don't think she's heard of coats," I said to the dog as the woman yanked another bin liner out of her boot. By the sound of the clinking coming from her direction the bag was full of empty wine bottles. Off she went again and it was then I noticed the flaps of her cardy were hanging down by her knees, saturated by rain.

"She's back. What's she got this time?"  The dog gave a little bark. "You're right, Pickle, its more bottles and her cardy is now almost floor-length."

A big Peugeot pulled up alongside Skipper's van. The man inside swung the door open and stuck his head out. For one awful moment I thought he was going to be ill, but instead he made a noise like a car trying to start on a cold morning and projected the result onto the Tarmac with a splat. In the middle of the gelatinous mess was a pink plate with a tooth on it. He reached out, picked the plate up, gave it a cursory wipe on the car seat and…put it back in his mouth.

"What's the matter with you?" said Skipper getting into the driver's seat and hurling his sopping-wet cap onto the dashboard. "You look like you've been sucking on soap. What've you seen now?"

It was a good five minutes before I regained the power of speech and was able to tell him.