Nebbing

I’m back on the road when writing today’s blog. 

Incidentally, when alluding to ‘writing on the road’ yours truly means penning this missive away from my apartment. Clearly, am not referring to creating this prose at the wheel of my moving car, or that I am sitting in the fast lane of the M1 motorway while defiling this formerly chaste page.

Despite creative writing syllabuses omitting mention of the significant jeopardy from scribbling prose while driving a car, or indeed while perched on roads utilised by automobiles, I’d like to think I possess enough common sense not to need that warning.

Anyhow, as it’s taken me a hundred words to clarify the meaning of the piece’s inaugural sentence, perhaps it’s time I moved on!

GJ Strachan’s current location is a coffee house in a south Leeds retail centre. Being a Monday morning and with school kids back at their alma maters, customer traffic is light as I gaze below from my mezzanine-based perch.

Close by are a couple of old fellas who, coincidentally, I’ve just overheard make the same observation about the retail centre being a more agreeable environment without youngsters invading their audio space. A nice change after last week when Haribo infused nippers upped the noise ante they suggest.

One of the old fellas is a golfer. Unless I misheard him, he’s just informed his buddy he’s bought himself a Kryptonite club. I think he means graphite!… Either that or he’s endeavouring to gain an advantage in an upcoming round with Superman.

Sat opposite to me is a bespectacled young fella with long hair eating a panini. Incidentally, that’s him eating the panini not his long hair! His lengthy follicles are not consuming anything; they’re clearly not hungry… They must be thirsty, though, as unbeknown to him some of his locks are dangling in his cappuccino. 

The fella’s sandwich must be hot as it’s making his glasses steam up. Either that or his fragrant girlfriend sitting aside him is surreptitiously playing footsy. Looking at how manky his footwear and socks are, if she is, I’d venture her exposed calves will need a good scrub upon departure.

On a table next to them is a woman who, unless Costa have introduced a new range of invisible beverages, doesn’t appear to have purchased a drink. Indicating the thirtysomething looking lady has invoked squatter’s rights in the LS11 café. As she’s using their table, chair and Wi-Fi, a tad cheeky I’d suggest.

Like me she’s sat with her laptop, making me wonder whether she’s also writing a blog. If she is, I’d like to think she’s stealing glances in my direction and typing ‘There’s a dodgy bloke sitting opposite on his laptop. The silly old bastard has paid for a drink!… #sucker #freewifi #sofasarecomfy #mightmoveinhere”

The two old fellas who were earlier sitting adjacent have left the coffee house. Their table now occupied by a family of seven. A diminutive brood, I feel like asking them where Snow White is. Looking at them, I have no idea who Doc, Happy, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful or Sleepy are, although I’ve a fair idea which one is Dopey!

As I write a woman at a distant cafe table is breast feeding her child… Either that or she’s wearing an incredibly unusual baby shaped bra. 

An act which can put some idiots noses out of joint, the lady is being the model of discretion while feeding her child. Good on her; and one in the eye for the fools who think this natural way of providing child sustenance is offensive in public.

Right, as I have dog-sitting tasks to undertake, I need to bring this narrative to a conclusion. Have a great week!