a travelling evening...16:13 Sep 17 2011
Times Read: 812
I went travelling Friday evening, getting to Vicky and Pete’s at about six or so; an just as I was about to leave Vicky had walked up, having just got home from work.
It tickled me, that Vicky had been pleasantly surprised to receive a hug from me, saying, “Good hug.” Heck, it had been ages, since I’d seen her and after all, I have had good lessons, on how to hug again… just, tickles me, that some are surprised that I give ‘em.
We had chatted awhile, then she had phoned Pete; it seemed that he’d forgotten that I was calling, but covered himself beautifully, saying, “I should have had you call in [[to the club]] as you pass it on the way.” {{I hadn’t the heart to tell him that I’d got the bus that travelled the other road, running parallel; or say to him, ‘admit it, you forgot I was calling’}}… As it was, he’d obviously enjoyed his pint, judging by how much he was smiling.
And, I hadn’t seen the two of them, for ages, having a pleasant evening and, needless to say, I had continued with my own traditions and, missed my bus. So, I went for ‘the next’, an hour later, getting to the busstop on King Street earlier enough to go to the nearby pub, The Stanley’s for an end of the night whiskey.
Friday night and, there was a good female vocalist on, doing soft metal as I walked in, wearing all black and my cap. I’d got my drink, downed it, then toddled off, back to the busstop, where I found a timorous lady, also waiting for the Birkenhead bus.
And, that was when a young pretty-thing brunette walking toward me, with a thin fellow wobbling after her; then a grok following them both, who got rid of the wiry wobbling fellow, before continuing aftr the pretty-thing, who I’d already ‘judged’, to be as damaged, as the last ex… ie: a type, I’ve seen before, many times.
And, just passed the busstop they both stopped, before the end of the pavement, where you cross, to goto the off licence, just secong in on the small block of shops, where I’d already assumed {{rightfully so, as it happens}} that they might have been heading. And, the grock had rousted this petite pretty-thing, striking her [[though ‘lightly’ for his size, as she stood afterward]] and, I don’t know who was more shocked, me at the sound, or the timorous thing to sitting inside the bus-shelter.
And, the young-looking pretty-thing, who had slowed and looked back, to ensure she was being followed, as she had approached the shelter, just stood there docilely as he berated her goodstyle. He had shouted at her about many things, fella’s booze and smack, none of which surprised me. And, at some point, the woman had showed mild interest, it seems, only to find the pretty-thing thrown toward her, “There, go to your friend.”
He had then walked away, to the off-licence, as I’d expected and, to judge by the face of the woman still sitting in the shelter, that it had been evident she was surprised, by the whole event.
And, I think he’d struck the girl again before walking off, but my attention had been on two sides there and, so had realized as it neared then passed, I had missed my bus.
Many years ago, that would have been nothing, a walk from Wallasey to Birkenhead: but this is Now and, my back had started to ache.
Anyway, I said to the woman, who had been waiting as well, “That was our bus, so I’m walking.”
“I’m waiting,” she had said.
“That’ll be forty minutes,” I’d reminded her, before starting to walk, looking back to see the young woman run to her, for consolation.
Shee-it, I’ve seen so many like her, damaged and dependant and, easily used and abused and, that had filled my head many a mile, after a good evening spent with friends, I’d not seen in ages.
That and, ‘why does someone always seem set to spoil a goodnight for others?’
And, it occurred to me, why do the young damaged, dependent and, easily used and abused, end up with Grocks? {{big and empty-headed meat-heads, often on steds, or steroids}} … who continue to use and abuse them, while they continue to take it.
That and, ‘why does someone always seem set to spoil a goodnight for others?’
I had walked, to the docks, then across them to the station, getting there just in time to get the train home, without waiting too long: thankfully, as I’d felt shattered.
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