Thursday, 24 May 2012

Fun In The Sun

Whoopee! It's so hot and has been this whole week. People are trying not to get too excited by it and keep saying, "Well, this'll be oor summer," but inside we all feel confident that the sun will shine for the next 8 weeks at least. Funny how good weather boosts our confidence.

A local thug, early 60s but very fit, swaggers out of the bakers with his wee dug at the heels of his open sandals. He wears a vest and baggy shorts, his head is shaven and very smooth, he's lightly tanned after a wee holiday in the Costa. He looks at me and away and looks at me again. I keep looking at him but try to keep a faraway look in my eyes, like I'm not really looking at him. He carries one morning roll in his hand and clicks to the wee dug.

On Water Row, taxis bake in the sun and the drivers chat outside, leaning on the bonnets of the cabs. One sits at his steering wheel, window open and face upturned, eyes closed, catching some rays.

At Govan Cross, the newly paved slabs with metal benches are filled with shoppers and loiterers, relaxing and chattering in the sunshine.

Inside the bargain store with the cutout polis on the window, a few of us are perusing the suncream section.
"Wherr's that stuff that fries ye?" asks one woman.
A member of staff laughs, "Is it this baby oil ye're after?"
Another woman interrupts, "Ye're no suppost to put that on. There's no protection in it."
"Aye, that's it," says the first. "Ah'm goin fur the burn," and she lifts the oil and slips it into her basket.

In the little square of cement behind the iron railings at the front of a Howat Street tenement, a couple arrange a blanket of faded pink on the ground. The sun beams down on them at full force. She is stick thin, black hair in a centre parting and pulled back in a tight pony tail. She's wearing a short polka dot skirt and a black lacy bra and sits on the blanket with her legs straight out and feet on the bars of the rail. She applies oil to her neck and bony shoulders, leisurely lying back as though she might be on the top deck of an ocean liner. He is wearing a perra shorts and no shirt and his body is alabaster white and skin and bones. He squirts open a can of lager and looks around awkwardly for somewhere to sit down.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Wonderful writing. Pregnant; laden. Well done.