CHRISTMAS DAY PLUS TWO
I finally parked after spiralling up to a higher floor, fifty nine years old I thought, and only now I've wheels that don't embarrass me. I looked at the shiny body, and the D registration. Diamond white with black trim instead of chrome, That would save time he'd assured me, `It has the performance of a 1.6 you know, and the consumption of a 1.3' I did wonder how it achieved this considering the thing in question was a 1.4 Ford Escort, and not Merlin the Magician.
Sticking half the ticket from the machine on the inside window, and the other half in my pocket I headed for the lift. You get the parking price returned if you spend a quid or so in the massive food store that dominates the arcade. A tiddler to catch a bigger fish, but that's business. The lift doors closed, and a man at the back started coughing, while two teenage girls giggled trying to catch the eye of a leather clad youth with hair the colour of orange marmalade. They'd possible catch more than is eye I thought. Shimmering new doors opened to reveal a semi-wonderland, I say semi because half the premises in the new Boscombe Arcade called the Sovereign Centre were vacant, and thus were still shuttered. Reflecting the lack of confidence perhaps that would be shopkeepers had, to turn an honest, or dishonest bob into paper money, a neat trick if you can pull it off.
Amongst flickering coloured lights, plastic trees and searching faces I sallied forth hoping to find the remains of Christmas. I reached Boscombe' s attempt at creating the birth place of Christ, which had for some reason an Arabic fountain, and watched a group of dancers I'd seen at the opening going through the same routine. They stood out as they did then, but this time appearing more comic somehow against the festive air. Further down I saw a group of mentally disabled children in wheelchairs that some dear people were giving an airing to, marvellous, but tragic I thought. Each face was giving the game away, each face simply enjoying the spectacle, and each face mirroring it's neighbour. As they passed I smiled knowing they might well cope better in this crazy phoney world than most of us. Looking beyond the ultimate in fast food distributing, and across to Santa and the seven dwarfs. `They're elves' my granddaughter had informed me on another occasion. `Well they look like dwarfs to me, I'm sure that's Grumpy, if it's not he doesn't look to happy' There wasn't much more further down, so I turned on my heal, the bad one, and headed in the opposite direction.
Transparent lantern shaped lock-ups that our modern day money pinching society had called for, were already breeding on the blank stark walls of the Mall. Most were busy, but one more than the rest was sizzling, with gifts meant for warmer days, and prices low enough to tempt even Marley. I glanced at the back wall, raising my eyes scanning the freshly painted emulsioned walls, and it occurred to me the prices rose the higher up that wall you went. Then I spotted them, cute I thought, until I realised what they were up to. I think the term used to day is Bonking, yet it goes under many names according to how low the company using the word wants to go. Hedge Hogs, Rhino's Bears, all at it. I was dieing to ask what country they were exported from, but didn't dare in case it was Britain. No one seem to notice, or if they did they didn't seem to mind. A middle age lady by the door caught my eye, and smiled provocatively, I didn't know where to put my face. I looked up again, and I couldn't believe it, the bear had his tongue out. The assistant seemed to be completely oblivious to what was going on above her head. Far to busy with fingers in the till, or morals in her head, or lack of them to notice or even care. I tried to put myself in her position, and think what she'd say if I enquired about them, and come to the conclusion it would go something like this. `Oh that wall belong to some one else, he's out at the moment' or `That's right I only rent half the shop, the bottom half' I stood there transfixed, bemused with the unanimous dis-concern shown by everyone bar myself, and the Daisy by the door. God knows what the rabbit was doing with that carrot. I hurried passed the over sexed aunt almost expecting her to grab me, and tried to forget, but I was already scarred.
Doors swung open to a street built for traffic, but modernized to freeze the butt. I strolled across the man made slabs passing a figure cross legged on the ground, his head bowed. `Homeless and Hungry' the cardboard message read. Moving on, and looking back saw a family stop and speak to him, and every member dropped something into his soft flat cap. A purple haired pretty brushed pass me, and I wondered who'd got her ready, and what fancy dress party she'd escaped from, and how someone so young could have known Alice Cooper. Reaching the far end of the precinct I turned, how could I have passed that Down and Out with at least giving him the contents of the change in my pocket, after all it's Christmas, and only coin. Sure I had the remains of last years Pole Tax to pay, a large income tax demand to find, and no work on the books for February, and March, but I did have a roof over my head, and a full belly. My pace quickened, but when I reached where he'd been sitting he'd melted away along with Christmas.
As the warmth of the car heater thawed a numb brain, I started my Ring-a-Rosie journey down. I went straight down the first slope to the next floor, but had to stop at the next one until a kind soul let me out. I nodded, but before moving off I looked in my rear view mirror. Wait, it can't be, it was, I waved my thanks, and directly behind me was the unmistakable figure of our Homeless and Hungry, sporting a satisfied grin. I watched him follow down two more floors, and remembered the mentally handicapped, pornographic clocks, pretty spoilt faces. And here's this kid of twenty or less with all the conceit, and deceit in the world sporting a car that was not only bigger than mine, but was also younger.