Dinner, Dinner, Dinner BATMAN!

Well I'm back and it took me long enough.... I have been coming up with stories and following the amount of monologues that have run through my mind about possible blogs... I thought it about time to put my fingers on the keyboard and ticker-tapper some out.

So what's dinner, dinner dinner BATMAN?

Well I work in a small studio in Macclesfield and at dinner I get to escape, unlike some of my previous places of employment... which where like war camps questioning everything you did and needing a planning committee to go anywhere outside!!!... sorry name and serial number only to the bosh!

So I take this small amount of time to rush of into the exciting world that is "MACC", please hear the sarcasm in the word MACC... exciting and joyful is not the words that currently could describe the town centre... more like scally infested, empty shops and a huge overtly proportion of dog mess/general detritus per person.

But I do this ever working day and now after nearly three years, it's becoming too familiar. The press has mentioned that people don't interact the way they used to, from my little trips into "The world of MACC" (say this loud and with an echo) I can see how right the press was, heads down and into the scrum!.

So back to my daily routine, (yes it is a routine, as I tend to eat the same day after day, go to the same shops... as there is little to see... even if you do look up...)

Off I trot down the flagged and cobbled streets (which description makes them seem nice at first), then pass the dog mess left in all the tread-able places, inbetween the odd used condom, smashed glass and discarded food tray, half full with chips, the rest looking like they are crawling back to the centre of town, trying to escape....

The second house I pass, lives a rat or to some people a yorkshire terrier, which yapps away at me and probably every passerby, running from room to room, avoiding me and my shoes, which would either step on it or gift it with a swift kick up the arse.

Then passed the three storey house, whose occupiers seem to on a weekly basis chuck out something of large proportion and leave it in the street, unable to formulate a plan to get rid of it themselves, ie car + tip = job done.... or is that a catchpharse?

Items have included

- a sofa, which was there for best part of a month, a shade of pink at first then a slight

green tinge.

- a broken door.. wonder how it was snapped like that...

- a large screen tv, which again was there for a while, it was a surprise that no local scally had bunged it into the river, like someone had just before xmas, but I don't think ducks like Eastenders, a survey was carried out with mallards, but the findings where never released as many of them didn't pay their tv license bill.

Next is the talking cat, which does talk back, so a quick hello there and a quick stroke, is is such a nice cat.. I couldn't eat it all at once, it's also not a very talented cat, the other day I asked if it could ride a bike..and whether he was good at fixing videos, all he said was "me how?"

Then the house with the "curious step", curious why you ask in droves... (doubt even one would ask) well it always makes me think there is a cat apon it, could this be from the shape formed by the flaking paint or is there something ghostly!... I don't know, I still stare at it like a loon, shaking my head, knowing that there is simply nothing there!, except in the corner of my eye.... probably a bit of leftover sleep from the morning....

Then comes tripod, who is a three legged cat (front left is missing for those who want to know). Generally just a pile of hair sat on a door mat, but of late I've not seen it, he wasn't the fastest of felines so may have come to a sticky end...(4x4 garage across the road).. and again not very talented.. I asked once if it could paint a wall?...."me how?"

So at the end of the street we have the chippy and the pot of gold cafe (names have been changed to protect the innocents). Both always packed full of overweight sweaty workmen called Bob and Tom, their vans/trucks causing chaos at the junction, as they consume the weight of a small child and family in chips, peas, meat pies and chips, it shouldn't be possible for a person to sweat whilst eating.. but I have seen it happen... next is a flying elephant.

I used to go in once to the chippy and enjoy the young girl asking me "would you like a fuurck?" her accent evermore making it sound like she had a sideline in prostitution, how it would make me titter! and I never did say "how much?" or find out if her offer was any good.

And further I go into MACC.... past empty shops and a boarded up pub, a fallen down part of the pub, littered by various odd objects from prams, bags & cans, all clustered around the remains of the fireplace, the warmth long since gone, the only pretty thing here is from the flowering bush, a bloom of purple in the summer.

Go around the back and your presented with another lovely street scene just as littered, but here are the pub's cellar doors, which are fast becoming a accident waiting to happen, the rotting timbers shift under my weight every time I cross them. The street was cleaned up though last year .. and displayed as the prefect 50's street in a recent advert... see pics (the pub is in the background, they took the boards down for the shoot), the only irritating thing left was the little lad running up and down it.

Next comes the only thing to interest me on the walk, the cenotaph with it's well maintained gardens and a wash of colour, a pleasant place to sit for a while in the sun. But alas even this suffers from the blight, as you can't stay long due to the colourful smack heads... all a shade of puce and tinged with the smell that will make you throw up something of the same colour.

This is where the first human characters of my tale appear, the smack head group has two memorable characters, first "Peggy wheels" the one legged wheelchair bound female and "straight line Stan" a male of the group... yes from here on in it becomes a nature study....

I've had the pleasure of watching this group more than once, on my dinner,

Peggy is quite niffty at maneuvering around the course at the cenotaph, while shouting a constant stream of expletives and shaking one fist in the air, as this must be some kind of mating ritual, too which I am unaccustomed, but it does draw all the males smackies to her side.

While the Alpha male, Stan, has a more direct course, calmly waking in a straight line, cutting a sway through the treacherous flower beds, over the little bush, then a short frog hop over one of the stones with war dead on, to the final meeting area just behind the main statue, here they all gather round, swearing, wetting pants and drinking purple liquid.

This may have been where Sir David learnt his trade.

From here on in the interactions where people get fewer, I just give them names, which if published correctly, it could become a popular seek and see series...

We have -

Turmour Eileen - a young girl, curly hair, with crankles and a mobile phone which I think now is superglued to her ear, the new observation is that one leg appears to be shorter than the other and she's as comfortable in heels as a thug.

Lumpy John - a middle aged guy, blue baseball cap, scruffy, a big lumpy gout in his neck, always having a tab infront of the cancer research charity shop and I don't think he has the ability to stand up, as I've never seen it - update I have since seen him walking....

IGOR - works in WHS, only interaction I ever have is "would you like a bag for that...ha ha har (creepy laugh)" or "can I interest you in any half price chocolate? in exchange for a brain?" I have to wonder if she is made from the parts of dead people and automated?...

The Non-Smiling Woman - works in Marks, and never seems to smile when I reach the counter.... must be the sight of me in my tramp coat, purchasing the same daily items and fumbling for my change like I'm playing with my bollocks..

Flannel Scally - a grey suited moron, no matter what the weather, including in winter when I heard him say "it's cold" the snow not being a big enough clue to this numpty, as he was too busy with his hand in the grey flannel pants or shouting "w**ker" to his mate across the street, who responded with the choice words "F*ck off you're gay", brains, I tell you witty respond like that, I'm at a loss.

Old Lady Shoe - a little old lady whose back is so bent she can only look at her shoes, I've not seen her lately, so she maybe trapped in a high sided tray, thinking that the walls have surrounded her, or the cold snap may have claimed her.

The variety of Big Issue sellers - "alright Luv"... or big tissue, there is a set of four who regularly sell this magazine... there is one, who makes it painful to hear the words "Big Issue" as she always followed up with PLEEASSSE... that would drag on to a high screeching pitch and attract dogs..

I could go on and on....

But then there is the rarest of all, a flower within the weeds you might say, all be it I sound weird and like a stalker that I've noticed people, but the flower is a very attractive woman.

I've seen her the odd couple of times in Marks, inbetween the sandwiches, pieces of cheese, tweed and the tartan trolley. Cutting through the throng of old people and the ignorant in order to purchase a sandwich... a very vision of beauty, but having never heard her speak, she may have a voice like a 30 st brickie... and formely been called Nigel, but she does sport a decent hair-doo.

But alas after all this fun and frivolity I have to go back, stopping in all the charity shops on the way, seeing what dvd has been underpriced by oxfam, more and more making my collection bulge at the seams, back past all the derelict things, litter and mess

It did look pretty once... when all the snow covered it...