A Notebook and a Miasma


Having left the house today without a pad and pen, and thinking that I’d probably want to record some overheard conversations throughout the day, I went into a newsagents. I found the particular pen that I favour for this task, and an autograph book, which was on special and cheap. When I put the items on the counter, the woman said, “Ooh, lovely! Are you off to get some autographs today, then? Ronnie Corbett was in the village last week, oh, he is funny”. She seemed disappointed when I said I was only going to take notes in it. 
  “We do have plain notebooks, dear, if that’s what you want … But they don’t have the different coloured pages, I suppose. Is that what you were after, then, coloured pages, was it?” I said Yes, which seemed to mystify her. 

Then I went directly to the Tudor-era pub down the road. Possibly due to the very sultry weather there was a very strong miasma of old urine which seemed to rise up from the ancient wooden floorboards. This was not unpleasant as I viewed it as a direct link to all of the drunks throughout the pub’s history who had staggered, reeling into the street. At the bar I overheard a young man tell another, “Some chavvy snapped off my car aerial and left me a crushed Coke can on the stump that was left. Which was charming.”

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