This belt isn't quite right, coming undone like this all the time. It's ok when I'm still, it's the walking movement that does it; makes it flick out of place and come loose. But I don't know exactly how, and I'll never know, will I? I can't walk down the street studying my crotch in an attempt to work out exactly how this belt works it's way undone, can I Imagine if we all wore braces. Well, not the women obviously. Although, I bet some women would, if they were cool, and it was cool.
No, if braces were the norm, I would simply find some way of struggling with braces instead of belts.
Maybe I should have bought some wine. Can't go back to the shop now, or can I? If I am going to get some, let's turn back now before getting to far away from the shop, or I'm just wasting steps.
Argh, why didn't I think about it before passing the shop? I could have considered the problem far more rationally; an informed desicion based on money, self-worth, and consideration, not how far past the shop I have gone. They're not going to be happy, I'm always late. Extra late as a result of this wine situation. Maybe I should get two bottles by way of apology. No, one will be enough. It's a gesture, not an apology, let's not get off on the wrong foot — these dinner party things are, after all, with nice, kind, best intentions. I needn't convince myself I will be tutted at.
Hmm, £3.99 a bottle. Will they know it's a cheap wine? Will they assume it's cheap because I bought it? Now come on, I don't give that impression, do I? £5.99? Why not. Chewing gum? Sure. Longer queue than usual, Tuesdays must be becoming more fashionable a-night for drinking. Probably the students.
You don't get many shops with a bell on the door these days, it seems. It has a niceness to it, like, 'we know you're here, our attention will be appropriately directed at the soonest posible moment.' That ring establishes a brief relationship to be shared between shopper and shopkeeper, and signifies its end as you leave. Ding.
It's getting dark. If I only had a bike I could do this journey in seconds. Granted, many seconds it would be, but fewer seconds than my current performance. Ah, but I'd probably smash the bottle of wine. They have the thinnest bags in the world. One should not have to hold the bottle when surrounded by the bag, for the handles should suffice. These handles are not up to the task.
I wonder where the cracks in the pavement myth comes from. If everyone was always conscious of it, avoiding cracks on all journeys, then city centres would surely be a comical place — everyone staring down at the floor, dodging cracks at all cost. Would make for some well placed irony too, I'd say — concentrating too hard on cracks to escape the perils of an approaching bus, par example.
But people don't usually focus on cracks when they're walking do they? Only on lesuirely strolls. No, other things occupy the mind, leaving unsuspecting cracks in pavements the world over being ruthlessly trodden on. Maybe thats where all the evil in the world comes from; our failing to remember to dodge cracks, and the ensueing bad luck.
A tricky road to cross, this one. As soon as those lights change, these ones change, and when they change back, those ones change, leaving the road constantly packed full of cars - big, metal, crushing, cars. Why aren't cars big and fluffy? Surely a car's exterior could be soft, like a teddy bear, and deaths on the road would siese. Ah, a gap in the traffic always appears, sooner or later. Patience, young pedestrian, Yoda would say. Use the zebra crossing, Obe Wan would add.
Pavement, though. That's a good word. One would have to admit, however, that 'sidewalk' makes more sense - it's at the 'side' of the road, and you 'walk' on it. Say what you see, America. It couldn't be simpler. Edgepath? It's not brilliant, I admit. What we need is rotary pavements, or conveyor belt pavements (a la airport terminal), then maybe I wouldn't be running late. Well, 'pavement' is better than 'sidewalk'. If nothing else, we have that.
Blasted belt! I must look like such an idiot casually doing up my belt as I walk down the road, It comes undone! Should I explain this to onlookers? Or make a sign? BELT MAY COME UNDONE - DO NOT BE ALARMED - IT IS A SIMPLE MALFUNCTION. No, too long, needs to be catchy, so a simple glance will convey the message. BELT BROKEN: - NO OFFENCE. How seriously am I considering this? Maybe a new belt would be a better idea.
Was it number 32 or 34? I've been here at least 3 times, I really should know. Well, if all the houses didn't look so similar . . . Shall I phone one of them? No, surely I can't admit to not knowing which house it is after all those visits, it's just not normal. Let's try 32, what's the worst that can happen? Everyone will survive, it's no big deal.
"Hello!"
"Hi, sorry I'm late."
"Not at all, not at all! Come in."
"Great, here's some wine."
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