A Crow Descending / July 16 2008
After being dive-bombed by an angry crow on the rec’ for ten minutes earlier today, Audrey and I took a different route home, along Landsbury Avenue and past the sewage works on the other side of the village. We regretted it.
Just before we reached the junction with the main road that leads to Mansfield, we passed an elderly woman who was standing outside a rough-looking house with an outdoor refrigerator and an unkempt garden that resembled a building site.
Trembling and swaying dangerously from side to side, the old dear seemed to be in some distress. I thought at first that she was weeping; but as we drew near, it was obvious from the trebly strains of Madonna’s hit song Like A Virgin that were emanating from a tiny speaker in a mobile phone the woman was holding, she was singing. ‘Like a vir-ir-ir-ir-gin.’ She could have been singing. She could have been speaking in ancient Celtic tongues – it was difficult to tell. She also stank, and from the way she was dressed, she was – well, suffice it to say, her appearance had something of an earthy charm.
A burly young man opened the bay window of the house. ‘Alright, Mam?’ he asked the woman. And then to me: ‘On yer way, mate.’
‘I’m sorry, I thought for a moment your mother was in trouble.’
‘Seen enough, ‘ave yer? Wanna come in ‘ere an’ ‘elp me wiv me beer do yer? It’s lovely beer, this is.’ He made his sarcastic questions sound like a threat of violence. But even so, for a moment there, I wondered if Audrey and I were being matriculated into a local cult. ‘Mind yer fookin’ business.’ He spat. ‘There’s no trouble ‘ere. When there is, I’ll come and get yer. I know where you live.’
My dog and I showed all the fighting spirit of the French by turning quickly on our heels and making for home. ‘It’s no wonder I’m paranoid,’ I reminded her as we reached the safety of our front door.
Later, when I was at the mixing desk positioning microphones on my acoustic guitar, I looked at Audrey who was snoozing on the sofa by the window, and the image of something wonderful flashed across my mind. I couldn’t quite grasp it, its meaning or its nature. But it had been there, and I knew it would be back.
Filed under English Village Life / Home Studio / Hope / Madonna / Neighbours from Hell / Paranoia
Comments
2 comments on “A Crow Descending”
Nelson Galaxy / July 16th, 2008 at 1:41 pm
Why do we both seem to be surrounded by crazy people who are out to get us? I hope your wonderful flash returns - I’d like to know what it means.
Napoleon Fantastic / July 17th, 2008 at 10:57 am
We do seem to be weirdo-magnets, don’t we, old chum.
Mind you, you do get a better class of loony, living down there in that London as you do.
Me, I just get your run-of-the-mill, violent northern imbecile accosting me.
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