The Wee Willie Winkie Robber

Our house is situated on a crossroads, halfway down a hill. A wonky street light outside our gate is where people gather to sing songs, gossip and plan criminal activity. Over the road is patch of grass where general noise-makers like to set up shop and opposite our house is a big high wall - last year, a car of pink balaclava'd drug-stealers drove a stolen car into it and smashed it all down.* 

There's a squeaky front gate then a little patch of concrete before the steps up to our front door, by the side of the steps is a little nook to get to the side gate, Here's an inaccurate picture of our house

Dogs and people like using the little side nook as a toilet, to do drugs and have sex. The wall by the nook has a thick thatch of ivy where burglars like to park the tools of their trade, best scores so far are several bolt cutters and a heavy duty iron trolley.

Outside our squeaky gate the ivy rampages up the street light sending out prongs of vegetation to attack people walking by. Last week while giving the ivy a trim my shears hit tinny metal, I pulled out a brass candle holder, like the one Wee Willie Winkie used, it had a candle stump in it. I've bought it in and cleaned it off - it's a cheap, scarred little thing, it doesn't look like the spoils of a heist so I'm wondering if it's another burglary tool - maybe an old-school cat-burglar who hasn't heard about modern torches yet.

* two weeks ago - exactly a year after that the wall was smashed down - a bobble-hatted man and a skinny lad, turned up and built the wall back up. It was finished yesterday, a shiny big car pulled up next to it and a spivvy character in a suit and dark glasses got out, inspected the wall and signed it off as satisfactory.

 

Smelly Cat

I was in London last month looking after a very hairy cat. My temporary home was a flat with  living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and 'another room' I guessed what this room was for and tried to keep the door to that room shut but the latch wasn't strong and the cat could easily push it open and loved going in there. 

My mother paid a visit. She noticed the cat scratching at the 'naughty' door

What's in there?

Nothing much but the cat loves it and her fur gets very smelly in there.

Mum opened the door and took an investigative sniff - ah - cannabis - she's getting high in there

Knitting and drugs

 

 

This morning our local church hosted the Community Keeping Active Christmas Luncheon*.   

For the luncheon I made a stack of salmon and cucumber sandwiches and carried them carefully up the steep hill to the church hall, I was a little late and the room was already buzzing with ladies in lavender twinsets arranging platters of quiche and sausage rolls. The men were all in properly smart suits with ties and Good Shoes. Here I learned quite a lot about the French and English yarn industries (genuinely fascinating) and  also more than I needed to know about badminton and exercise schedules.

After lunch  I went back down the hill, beyond my house and further on down until I arrived at the very glorious tattoo parlour where Frank, my current houseguest is working, I had been invited for a tour and was not going to turn down this educative opportunity. Frank used to be female, he has a lot of tattoos and  an impressive reputation for his work. He's not too keen on doing the sort of tattoos that people want him to do** but we all have to make a living.  Artwork was pinned up around each person's work station - someone was very keen on scenes depicting Egyptian sphinxes and Aztec gods overlooking landscapes of brightly coloured limbs climbing out of holes bearing bodily organs.

My afternoon learning was mainly about which drugs inspired what sort of artwork and also to be careful  about getting too popular for the work you do during the more transient phases of your life.

 

* I am currently living my life backwards: last week the church hosted the Community New Year Party  

**  wolves howling at psychedelic moons,  weeping faces ....