Something for the Weakened

Archive for June, 2009

Disseminate

June 11th, 2009 by

Read this.

Now fly my pretties.

Browsing

June 7th, 2009 by

CGI-Brows (New Version)

The Yout’

June 4th, 2009 by

Couple of days back, I was walking home from a supermarket (I’d love to claim I bought all my produce from family run, locally produced, organic vendors, but it would be an horrific lie), laden with bags of shopping. It being a glorius afternoon, I decided to take a hosrt cut through the park that lies between Tesco’s and my domicile. All was going well – the bags in my hands weren’t heavy enough to cause pain, my clothing was light enough to cause only mild perspiration, the warm summer breeze blew through the trees and wafted through my hair. Then I arrived at the grassy bit.

When travelling through the park, my quickest route back to base is to nip off the path and onto the grassy bit (which is about an acre and a half of, um, grass) and then cut through the trees at its rear to get to the bridge I must cross to continue my journey. On a sunny day, the grassy area is normally populated by a fair few people, soaking up the rays, playing frisbee, you know, usual park activities. You’ve been to a park before, haven’t you? I’m not going to condescend to you anymore than I have to. Anyhoo, on this occasion there was a pack of youngsters of mid to late teenage years situated between me and my gap in the tiny bit of woodland. They were capering around in the manner that aimless teens do and I foresaw that things could become fraught as I passed. Nevertheless, I proceeded – the alternative would have added at least a minute and a half to my journey and I took that to be unacceptable in comparison to the prospect of mildly unpleasant youngster interaction.

As I neared their group, my suspicions were confirmed. One broke from the pack and began to approach me. He said something, though with my having headphones on I didn’t catch it, ignored it and kept my pace. Closer, he spoke again, presumably louder as I caught his “Hello.” I shot him the most fleeting of glances, returned the pleasantry and kept walking. I heard him offer to carry my bags, but chose to ignore the offer (it could only have ended poorly) and continued walking. I could percieve that he had stopped his approach and hoped that that would be the end of it. I was mistaken, as seconds later I heard someone running up behind me. There were enough people around that I wasn’t fearing any sort of attack, so waited to see what larks the young un would attempt next. The lad overtook me in his running and lay down like a cat a couple of metres in front of my path. There he stayed as I sidestepped around him and disappeared into the tiny grove, his tiny chums guffawing at this apparently hilarious exploit. I continued on my way home, mulling over whether I could have got away with giving him a boot to the head.

I walked back that way again today. The youths were long since gone, though evidence of their presence endured. The ashes of possibly the smallest camp fire the world has seen and an empty packet of Pro-Plus. Its almost depressingly middle class, isn’t it? It was all cider and reefer butts in my day. Tsk, they don’t know they’re born. At least they can’t vote. Speaking of which, must dash to the station before it closes. If I can find it.

Obvious?

June 3rd, 2009 by

Not especially, but it is really rather good.