The stems of red and orange summer flowers are artfully arranged in a glass vase by the window. The water is pale blue. Outside this room the street is empty, but for a black cat sat on the roof of a parked car, cleaning its paws. It appears to mumble to itself, but I can’t hear the words from this distance, or through the window.
The air in here is hung with dust motes and petals. I am sat on the kitchen worktop. I begin to worry about the confusions of British Summer Time – perhaps the clocks have changed? (although, in waking life, the idiom ‘Fall, back. Spring, forward is more than ingrained in my mind!)
CP is sat on a bench in the corridor of Raiders FM where SF & I used to broadcast a show in the early two thousands. She studies a hair magazine. The guy we used to secretly call Mad Mike, who ran the internet station, sits down next her and suggests different styles in a comedic and camp voice!
TW has extensions! Strange extensions! He is very impressed with them. They are complicated in colour (rather like the seat covers on London tube trains!) and are attached to his scalp somehow with awkward and cheap looking plastic runners (curtain rails?). He demonstrates how they can move, “quite naturally,” he explains, up and down the runners. He has drawn quite a crowd and everyone seems mightily overawed by them! I slink back out of the crowd, quite unable to stifle my giggles!.