Here in the city, life is more crowded than at home. The Museum Gardens are snided (filled) with teenagers playing Abba and flinging hoops to each other. Obviously some of them are going other stuff too, otherwise the world would be a very odd place!
The pavements and roads around the shops throb and throng with people; enough to populate anyone’s novel. I often wish that I could stop and take photographs of everyone I find interesting to write about.
- The woman with the bright red ringlets that look like they are made of plasticine
- The three Nubian sisters that stride – so tall, proud and flawless of complexion
- The guy who’s so flamboyantly gay
- The Big Issue seller who sits on the ground and beseeches us to buy her wares with such imploration (us that a word?)
- The bloke in boots, shorts, a t-shirt and a beanie-hat
- The people who live on the streets.
All of them, just begging to be in a story. But here’s the thing: they already are. It’s called life!
Anyway, the reason I go into town, aside from the people-watching and the walk (got to get my 10,000 steps a day in) is to go to the church.
St Crux church has a forecourt, and in that forecourt is a charity jumble sale (apart from Sunday and Monday) and within that sale is a book stall where the paperbacks are fifty British pence.
That book stall is the reason that I have thousands (literally) of books in the attic, the study and the drawers in the office. I guess you could say I’m addicted.
After that I go for a pee. And then I take the following photo. I guess they dredged the River Foss.