A few smallish items…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s old black and white snapshot is the one of me and Bob Dylan standing eating cheese and pickle sandwiches outside Buckingham Palace in 1965.

Excuses for being late. No. 251.
I’m sorry I’m late, but there were a couple of black widows and a tarantula on my bananas.

An observation:
Standing waiting at the bus stop there was a large round middle-aged woman. She had fluffy pink hair and was wearing a pair of tight white trousers of some sort of stretch material which were printed with a pattern of randomly scattered dollar bills. If she’d been a character in a film you’d think that this was very heavy-handed irony…

A single overheard, and possibly misheard, remark:
‘Oh, that bloody chime officer!…’

As I was walking down the street where I live I noticed that one of the houses was having some work done on it; there were some builder’s tools and a big tub of wet mortar with a stirrer in it in the middle of the front path. There was a scruffy white van parked at the kerb. As I passed I thought, Oh, now, what’s that funny smell?…
As I came level with the vehicle I could see that the driver’s side window was open. There was a thick tanned hairy arm sticking out. The hand connected to the arm had a fat cannabis joint or spliff between its fingers. Ah, the lads must be taking a well-earned afternoon break…

I’m thinking of changing my name to Callum Knee.

A single overheard remark:
‘I just stand mine on a cardboard box…’

‘What did you say? A shandy leer?’
‘What’s that? Is it a drink? A cocktail perhaps?…’
‘No, it’s an ornate ceiling mounted light fitting…’
‘Ah, right…’

From the upper deck of the bus to Beverley (East Yorkshire) I had a good view of a large field with some horses in it. There were five or six of them. They were all standing very still in various parts of the field. Don’t horses do anything? Do they just stand there all day? Hm, I feel like that sometimes…

I do find it odd that some people when they are on their own in a public place, say, sitting on a bench, or on a train or bus, or waiting in a queue at the post office, audibly express their feelings as if they were at home in the company of their family or friends. They give out sounds, usually loud sighs, expressing weariness, frustration, irritation, to share with any strangers within earshot. They often glance round after emitting one to see if anyone is taking notice. Perhaps they have never really spent much time on their own, and when they are, they are desperate to communicate and seek solace and sympathy in their private misery…

An observation:
Oh look, there’s a worried looking Eric Clapton poking through the onions and parsnips in the supermarket. I wonder what he’s doing in Dulltown? He does look a bit lost these days…



About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in brain, conversation, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, fashion, Film, Hull.UK., humour, information, irony, observations, people, serendipity, style, surrealism, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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