The wedding yesterday was quite enjoyable, though in large part it was because we were indoors during the hottest part of the day. Maltese weather provides for excellent outdoor photography, but is not anywhere you want to be when dressed up for a wedding :)
For today, let's return to a very recent tale and continue that a little:
The trinket Two hundred miles west and I stopped off in a trailer park. The ground was bare and sandy and the trailers here looked as though they'd been dropped off and abandoned -- no order, no sign of planning. Most of them were white fascias over iron frames with dirty windows covered from the inside by equally dirty nets. There was an abandoned red plastic spade a few feet from a red bucket with a hole chewed in its side and signs of tiny, scuffed, footprints in a bigger patch of sand. I walked up three wooden steps that creaked and splintered, and sniffed. There was a smell of bacon frying and it reminded me that I'd not eaten yet this morning. The door opened before I could knock and Trinket peered at me. His hair was still jet black despite him being past sixty and I was sure he dyed it. It was bushy and rolled down the back of his neck in a mullet that brought back the 80s with a strong blast of nostalgia. His eyes were hidden behind the grease-smeared lenses of black bakelite glasses, and he had a toothbrush moustache like the lead in the Munsters. "Who are you?" he said, a hint of a smile tweaking the corners of his lips. I held out my new driving licence. "James Taylor," I said. He took it and studied it for a few seconds. "You've got younger again. Most people, I just get to comment on their weight, but with you it's always something else." He turned and I followed him inside. "One of these days you're going to tell me you're a dog or a coyote or something. You want a bacon sandwich?" "Thanks, I ate already," I said. I know Trinket's standards of cleanliness, and I'm not sure fire could actually kill all the germs in his trailer. The trailer split into two parts: a large section where other people would have a sofa and a tv -- here the trailer was stripped back to the walls and there were workbenches all around the side. Bottle of chemicals, plastic trays, a magnifier, tweezers, a rack of hard-to-obtain watermarked papers, a small safe -- all tools of the trade. Two Anglepoise lamps gave him light, and wires above provided him somewhere to peg photographs while they dried. the other side, much smaller was a stove, a door to the toilet, and a beanbag where (I think) he slept. "So James," he said, picking up bacon from the pan and dropping it on a slice of bread. He blew on his fingers, then licked them. "Tell me what you're going to be doing a living this time."
Tossed aside after winning in a Rigged game at the Idiot's fair Not considered but Kept -- how could it be the cause of the End of the world? It doesn't like being Tossed away.
Greg - you enjoyed yourself at a wedding? I am pleasantly surprised :P
Happy to see this continued, and in a much less creepy fashion to boot! I like how matter of fact this is as well, the tone carries on from your previous entry perfectly. And I'm intrigued by Trinket too.
Morganna - that took an unexpected turn around lines 5 and 6! Very nicely done, and in acrostic form to top it off :)
3 comments:
The wedding yesterday was quite enjoyable, though in large part it was because we were indoors during the hottest part of the day. Maltese weather provides for excellent outdoor photography, but is not anywhere you want to be when dressed up for a wedding :)
For today, let's return to a very recent tale and continue that a little:
The trinket
Two hundred miles west and I stopped off in a trailer park. The ground was bare and sandy and the trailers here looked as though they'd been dropped off and abandoned -- no order, no sign of planning. Most of them were white fascias over iron frames with dirty windows covered from the inside by equally dirty nets. There was an abandoned red plastic spade a few feet from a red bucket with a hole chewed in its side and signs of tiny, scuffed, footprints in a bigger patch of sand.
I walked up three wooden steps that creaked and splintered, and sniffed. There was a smell of bacon frying and it reminded me that I'd not eaten yet this morning.
The door opened before I could knock and Trinket peered at me. His hair was still jet black despite him being past sixty and I was sure he dyed it. It was bushy and rolled down the back of his neck in a mullet that brought back the 80s with a strong blast of nostalgia. His eyes were hidden behind the grease-smeared lenses of black bakelite glasses, and he had a toothbrush moustache like the lead in the Munsters.
"Who are you?" he said, a hint of a smile tweaking the corners of his lips.
I held out my new driving licence. "James Taylor," I said. He took it and studied it for a few seconds.
"You've got younger again. Most people, I just get to comment on their weight, but with you it's always something else." He turned and I followed him inside. "One of these days you're going to tell me you're a dog or a coyote or something. You want a bacon sandwich?"
"Thanks, I ate already," I said. I know Trinket's standards of cleanliness, and I'm not sure fire could actually kill all the germs in his trailer. The trailer split into two parts: a large section where other people would have a sofa and a tv -- here the trailer was stripped back to the walls and there were workbenches all around the side. Bottle of chemicals, plastic trays, a magnifier, tweezers, a rack of hard-to-obtain watermarked papers, a small safe -- all tools of the trade. Two Anglepoise lamps gave him light, and wires above provided him somewhere to peg photographs while they dried. the other side, much smaller was a stove, a door to the toilet, and a beanbag where (I think) he slept.
"So James," he said, picking up bacon from the pan and dropping it on a slice of bread. He blew on his fingers, then licked them. "Tell me what you're going to be doing a living this time."
Tossed aside after winning in a
Rigged game at the
Idiot's fair
Not considered but
Kept -- how could it be the cause of the
End of the world? It doesn't like being
Tossed away.
Greg - you enjoyed yourself at a wedding? I am pleasantly surprised :P
Happy to see this continued, and in a much less creepy fashion to boot! I like how matter of fact this is as well, the tone carries on from your previous entry perfectly. And I'm intrigued by Trinket too.
Morganna - that took an unexpected turn around lines 5 and 6! Very nicely done, and in acrostic form to top it off :)
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