Saturday morning in where I call our village centre. People going about their business a steady stream going into the Cake Sale at the Institute including Cindy Hinds. I spy two of our village characters, one from either side of the village. They appear to be drinking themselves to death. They are left to their own devices. We are still a free country to do such things.
A friend of Lisa looks up and waves as she comes down Penymynydd Rd. The only person to spot me sitting on the roof watching the world go by. A coach from Nottingham arrives. I presume it's the standard two day affair of darts competitions and whatever one does in clubs.
There used to be a character in these parts called " Black Betty" She would walk around the area in a large black coat with cold dust rubbed all over her face. I used to wonder if the coal dust offered any protection from the elements or just to make the locals keep away. She slept rough. Betty used to be "normal" I'm told she was married before she turned. She would raid the chip shop waste paper bin. Fish or chips a week old. Tony Fish thought she had a stomach of cast iron, special tummy bugs.
She was sitting in the alley one day so I got Lisa to make her a cup of soup. Betty told her to go forth and multiply. I'm told that there are regulations in place that if she didn't accept food from anyone the authorities couldn't take her in. Perhaps Betty a lot smarter than people thought.
At night she would wrap her big black coat around her and fall backwards into someone's hedge. This must have given a few people a shock seeing a body in the hedge.
My fans might wish to know I had a legitimate reason for being on the roof, I've got slates missing................
Betty, she was a character and a half, she would always be around in hope on the school lunch hour waiting for wasted chips!
ReplyDeleteGreat stuff Colin...
ReplyDelete