More from the periphery

hoseIt’s been a bad week one way and another. The only way through this day was to keep thinking of a bottle of the red stuff tonight and a lay-in tomorrow. I arrived home at the Twilight Zone with fresh flowers to adorn my soon-to-be clean house, checking my time-piece to see how much longer it would be until the sun was over the yard-arm, only to find my miniscule parking slot wreathed in one of Dave’s serpent-like hoses. Dave was in his garage – I waved as I went past so I know this. However, after successfully manoeuvring between two inefficiently parked vehicles, whilst checking to ensure I hadn’t killed Dave’s hose, I looked up to see him virtually on the bonnet of my car.

‘Is that hose in your way’, Dave enquired? This is Dave’s way of asking whether I’d run over it.

‘Can I have a quiet word’, he continued? ‘In the garage?’ My heart sunk.

Dave’s garage, like everyone else’s round here, is too small to house a car. That doesn’t stop them all mysteriously acquiring other folk’s though. I’d been here three years before I discovered that, at one distant point in time, my house had a garage. Chris purloined it after his wife died. The wife used to live in my house. Chris lived in the house opposite. Now Chris is dead and I suppose the new people have ‘bought’ it.

Dave wanted to know whether I’d heard the night-time buzzing again. He knows I haven’t because I told him when he asked last time. And the time he told me it was down to fish mating. Turns out that someone has now reported him to the council for buzzing after dark. It’s not me but I can guess who it was. It’s the person who thinks Dave is illegally transporting electricity into his house from his garage via a hose.

Just as I was explaining this – no names, no pack drill – Frank rushed round the corner on his zimmer frame.

‘Hello Frank. Doing the full lap today?’

Frank was in a mood. He shouted some choice abuse at the postman who had made the mistake of walking by before asking whether I’d like to see his arse. I declined the offer. Frank said he didn’t know why I was so fussy; everyone that comes in his house wants to see his bloody arse. He keeps his trousers down most of the time just to be helpful. Dave advised Frank to mind the hose but Frank was off.

I asked Dave what he was going to do about the council. He’s already phoned them up and told them the buzzing is due to the mating fish. Fortunately, he’s saved the link to this piece of evidence on his computer. That’s ok then.

I’d finally made it to the relative safety of my front door when Adrian jumped out from behind his van to tell me he’d seen a lot of foreign looking people yesterday.

‘Where was that then’, I politely enquired?

‘Heathrow’.

Nearly wine o clock.

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