During the course of the average day, you see things that stick in the mind, so you file them away to be used at some point in a story. On a good day, you might even scribble a description down in a notebook. Most of the time you intend to, but forget. Today, several random vignettes lodged in my brain, things that made me want to know more:
Man standing next to me at a bus stop having a shouted chat with man in car stopped at traffic lights close by.
Man at bus stop: “What’s the story, Mick?” [for non-Corkonians, and possibly non-northsiders, this generally translates as ‘Hello, old chap. Fancy seeing you here.’]
Man in car: “How’s Jimmy gettin’ on?”
Man at bus stop: “He’s after gettin’ probation.”
Man in car: “Probation?”
Man at bus stop, cheerfully: “He’s on constant probation. He won’t be shopliftin’ in Penneys no more.”
Woman unsteadily hopping down Patrick Street on crutches, her leg in a full, black cast from thigh to toes. The back of her T-shirt reads, ‘SHOW OFF’ in gold sequins. Bit harsh.
Angry-looking Hell’s Angel type stops abruptly in the middle of the street, then walks over and cautiously offers his arm to a bewildered looking elderly man on the kerb.
Woman on the bus, late 50s, dyed black hair tipped with red. Has piercings on the back of her neck, embellishing a tattoo that says ‘Ellie’ in cursive font. Why? She’s the only one who can’t see it.