The rain was just beginning to hiss when I stole out my front door this morning. Leaving my wife in bed with her mouth fastened on the pillow; a tidy pocket of drool collecting in the corner of our marital bed.
Before I was even half way there I had to stop. Sheltering in a doorway to allow my circulation to recover from the endless cocktail of cigarettes and carbohydrates. I was starched and gagging for a nicotine fix but I had a plan.
I was downtown by the back of ten. Not bad for a fat man on two bad feet. The streets were still relatively empty. I felt a little smug until I put my hand on the first door on my list. The grills were up but there was nobody home.
F@cking Sunday shut out, St. Valentine's Day or not.
I made a mental calculation. If I crossed the street to buy some socks, I might still make the florist's before the rush. £4.99 for three f@cking pairs. Since my wife has commandeered the washing machine I have sixteen individual socks without a partner. Short of a summary amputation, I am a sole trader on the hop. I walked a block and bought a packet of cigarettes. Stood in the rain, and smoked two right off the bat. I paid for the socks and came back out to find a queue of elderly women waiting to get inside and make off with the shelves of freshly baked bread. Bastard.
The "Pound-Stop" directly across was open and in business. A steady trickle of teenage boys and pensioners in baseball caps. Emerging with two foot square packages to bring back home to wives and partners with blackened eyes. Fat lips. Bruises. The bigger the better to make an unflinching declaration of love.
"Get that fucking kettle on, doll. I'm parched."
Well. Our foray into Helmand Province is rolling nicely, thank you. Paved with a Georgian blood sacrifice in Vancouver ahead of the luge.
I smoked another cigarette and extinguished it just in time to get in there and buy red roses. My relief was almost palpable, incurable romantic that I am. Still. Better to capitulate in time than bleed out on the tarmac.
"See ? It ain't f@cking loaded, muthaf@cker..."
▼ THE ROLLING STONES: OUT OF TIME from "Aftermath" LP (Decca) 1966 (UK)
+ JUST FOR THE DUMBER THAN DUMB HGH STEPPING OF IT:
▼ HEATWAVE: BOOGIE NIGHTS from "Boogie Nights b/w Too Hot To Handle" 45 (GTO / Epic) 1976 (US)
