------------
The junky upstairs was arrested last night. He'd come to the door, topless and brandishing a knife. It wasn't a good look, nor was it a good evening to be hosting the Finnish Girl from next door. Thankfully, things were calmed by the presence of my flatmate holding a stool and me waving a Gray-Nicholls GN100...
First thing in the morning, crisp frost clinging to the grime of the once pink pavement, out and over the road. The option was either walk past the Ace Cinema or The Fridge, good nights spent at both venues. Either way one had to skirt St Matthews Church, which was firmly planted on the roundabout at the foot of Brixton Hill. Up the hill and over the intervening 60 odd miles was home but the flat with the junky upstairs would have to do for the moment...
No comments:
Post a Comment