Today I visited an 'Anarchic Cafe'. I was drawn in by a rather shady garden, with crooked tables and chairs scattered about. As I waited for my clover infusion to brew I was able to peruse leaflets on subjects such as 'Why We Hate the Police'. The cafe felt like a strange mix of hippy friendliness and barely restrained anger.
I took a seat under the tree and sipped the tea. A young man came up to me, with a black eye and several teeth missing. He also had 'Property of Jessica' scrawled on his arm in thick, angry letters. He asked, quite politely, if I would ring his girlfriend's number which he held up, scrawled on some tatty cardboard.
I passed my mobile across the table to him, and was relieved to see he sat down with it. My mobile costs by the minute, so I said I would appreciate it if he was brief. He noted that I wasn't from round here, and when I said I was from London, he talked about his upbringing in Galloway, Ireland. No-one answered his call, so I said, 'Jessica not in then?'. His jaw dropped open and his eyes were as wide a saucers. 'How do you know?' he asked, in amazement. I toyed with the idea of saying I was psychic, but just said, 'it's on your arm'. He gave me a rueful smile and returned my phone. After a friendly-ish conversation relating to England's repression of Ireland he ran off. As he disappeared round the corner, my phone rang. I guessed it would be Jessica and decided to 'reject'.
More interesting people came and went. A couple of men who were suitably bearded to wear a red suit, black boots and carry a sack in December, a nervous couple who didn't understand where to get the coffee and a young woman with a puppet theatre made out of two bicycle wheels attached to each other horizontally and covered in material like a circus tent. As she went past, I noticed a toy rat, swinging from a noose inside. A short while after, a shabby camper van drew up. It had black bin liners where the doors should be and a standard sitting room sofa in the main part. It disgorged its occupants onto the pavement, and the driver started to assemble a tricycle with a large sign on it saying 'people power'. Then a druid walked into the garden and lay down next to a dog on the concrete.
On the way back the bus went past a large, illuminated sign outside a pest control business. It was of a life sized Pied Piper, dancing along followed not by mesmerized children, but one representative of each of the creatures of our nightmares. Maybe he was going to start a new Noah's Ark, or maybe he was going to the cafe, to join the circus.
I took a seat under the tree and sipped the tea. A young man came up to me, with a black eye and several teeth missing. He also had 'Property of Jessica' scrawled on his arm in thick, angry letters. He asked, quite politely, if I would ring his girlfriend's number which he held up, scrawled on some tatty cardboard.
I passed my mobile across the table to him, and was relieved to see he sat down with it. My mobile costs by the minute, so I said I would appreciate it if he was brief. He noted that I wasn't from round here, and when I said I was from London, he talked about his upbringing in Galloway, Ireland. No-one answered his call, so I said, 'Jessica not in then?'. His jaw dropped open and his eyes were as wide a saucers. 'How do you know?' he asked, in amazement. I toyed with the idea of saying I was psychic, but just said, 'it's on your arm'. He gave me a rueful smile and returned my phone. After a friendly-ish conversation relating to England's repression of Ireland he ran off. As he disappeared round the corner, my phone rang. I guessed it would be Jessica and decided to 'reject'.
More interesting people came and went. A couple of men who were suitably bearded to wear a red suit, black boots and carry a sack in December, a nervous couple who didn't understand where to get the coffee and a young woman with a puppet theatre made out of two bicycle wheels attached to each other horizontally and covered in material like a circus tent. As she went past, I noticed a toy rat, swinging from a noose inside. A short while after, a shabby camper van drew up. It had black bin liners where the doors should be and a standard sitting room sofa in the main part. It disgorged its occupants onto the pavement, and the driver started to assemble a tricycle with a large sign on it saying 'people power'. Then a druid walked into the garden and lay down next to a dog on the concrete.
On the way back the bus went past a large, illuminated sign outside a pest control business. It was of a life sized Pied Piper, dancing along followed not by mesmerized children, but one representative of each of the creatures of our nightmares. Maybe he was going to start a new Noah's Ark, or maybe he was going to the cafe, to join the circus.
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