I’m sat at my desk drinking the last of the red wine. There’s a five pound note in a picture frame to my right, a small red cockerel toy perched atop the hi-fi in front of me, and half a year’s receipts in small brown envelopes to my left.
There’s more than this on my desk of course but these are the things that stick out.
I was cycling to work today; blue windbreaker beaded with rain; hands, feet and face very cold and wet. As I approached the junction down by The Quays, the traffic lights turned from red to green so I leaned my bike into a left hand turn. I carried on without having to pedal or brake. And I thought, “How nice. I like turns like this.”
And then I thought: “What a shame it would be if – after thinking ‘How nice. I like turns like this’ – I realised I hadn’t looked to my right. And in that last second, I spotted the speeding car.”
I felt a twinge of something – not sure what – for a second. Then I carried on cycling down the empty stretch of road, the tyres making a fizzing sound on the ground and the wind buffeting my ears.
Later on I was walking around The Quays when I started playing this song on my phone.
The song shook free of the tinny speakers and dreary weather; the grey sky stretching; the grey water rippling. I stood and looked out at the fancy, big buildings that leave me cold and just enjoyed the song.
I’m listening to it now at home on good speakers. But I’m convinced its better played outdoors on an old phone on a grey day by grey water.
And later on again, I saw this sign as I was walking around.
And I thought (I’m paraphrasing here), “You’ve got to be kidding me… OK, OK, I know that this is just an advert for some apartments. I shouldn’t take it seriously. And yes, they mean a place to live, which is not the same as living. But seriously, a fucking sofa? Sitting on a fucking sofa?”