Adults are, like, this mess of sadness and phobias.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
She got bored easily. It was like she was always looking to move on or find something that might be better. I did worry in case ‘better’ did not include me.
She had moved from outside the town centre to something bigger and closer. Closer to where people were. She needed to be closer to friends.
She found somewhere just down the road from her old place. Living above the campest bar in town was what she needed. The flat was sumptious with thick red drapes. She got on really well with the owner and when she agreed to move in, she also arranged to do some glass collecting in the bar, when they were busy.
“I can’t pay you,” he said, “but I will give you free drinks all night.”
I remember thinking it would be cheaper to pay her.
She knew the combination of living and working there would make her the centre of attention, as well as in the centre of town. Everyone wanted to help so the plan was set for the following weekend. We spent the nights before packing up her things.
“Will you move some stuff in when I move?” She asked as we finished loading up the last box.
I had carefully labelled all the boxes. Neatly symmetrical labels, much to her amusement. The new flat had a shared kitchen. though it was on the top floor and no one else was up there. The bedroom was big with a double bed and two big wardrobes. It had huge windows and a terrace outside.
“Of course I will. Is there any room for me?”
“Maybe one drawer and a small gap on the rail.”
“Thanks. I’ll move in a pair of sock and a tie.”
“A tie as well?”
I had gone round the day of the move. It was early, about seven. Impressively she was already up.
Box by box, I took them down to the street and waited for her friends, who had offered to help. There were a dozen large boxes, a shoe locker and the cage where Smurf was sat, eating broccoli.
I had brought breakfast with me and we sat there waiting, eating. By eight o’clock, about half a dozen people had turned up to help.
She led the way and I picked a box up and followed. Everyone else said they would follow with something.
We got back first and sat in the lounge. It had a massive window with huge blue curtains that looked out and up the road they had just walked down.
“I don’t believe it.” I perched my backside on the big windowsill, watching the road and drinking tea.
“What?” She came over to see.
It was something out of a gay carry on movie. Or as Victoria described it ‘Carry on Camping’.
Six gay men walking down the hill in a procession. Four were carrying boxes. As we watched, the two carrying the shoe locker stopped and called the others back. They opened the locker and were taking all the shoes out, putting them on the road, admiring them. There was soon a dozen or so pairs lined up along the edge of the pavement and all of them slowly walking along inspecting them, like judges inspecting pedigrees at a dog show.
I rang Chris on his mobile.
“Where are you?”
“Uh…we are just leaving the flat now. We had to negotiate the stairs. That took a while.”
“You are lying. I can see you out of the window.”
Chris stared up and saw us. He waved enthusiastically.
“Ooh. But her shoes are sparkly.”
“Just get here.”
I would love people to share their shoe pictures, the weirder the better. Post them on here and we will roll them out across all our media sites. Prize for the best one!