16 March 2009

Amongst all the drunks, thugs, rudeboys, smokers and potheads, along with all the screaming, wailing, shouting, crying, effing and blinding (and worse...) of the homely haven that is Somerstown, the Adorable (and yes, they do warrant a capital A) are thankfully being both cultivated and fostered.

Three beautiful black bairns, barely beyond toddlerhood, lick Mr Whippy from cones. They get the sticky gloop all round their faces, and chuckle with gleeful mirth at each other's messy mouths. Their giggles are infectious. They run and stumble round my ankles, laughing and pointing and hanging on their mother's skirts with mucky paws.

And when I take the binbag out (at arms length and double-bagged, yuk) an Afro-haired tomboy in luminous leggings is sticking her legs into the slot for cardboard.
'Are you recycling yourself?', I ask.
'Well, I'm trying to' she replies good naturedly, 'but my bum's getting stuck'.
She is joined by a chatty little blond bespectacled girl who promptly asks Perry if he's Australian. They really hit it off. She has an eyepatch. Which he admires.
There is a third member of this miniature harem who is mute. He dangles from a tree in the background. Just watching.

All three pick daffodils. Bright yellow and green. Almost as vivid as the kids themselves.

Forget Somerstown. It should be called Springstown.

5 comments:

Ma said...

How lovely. Not like real life - it's just beause the suns out.....amazing how much better everything/one looks in the sun.

Ma said...

And one's spelling and grammar goes to pot in the sun too..........

anna said...

I put it down to Sunstroke. Broken out into your freckle-fest yet? Only a matter of time before the ginger gets you...

Ma said...

It's Northumberland not the riviera.............

Mike said...

If you only take the rubbish out once spring comes, then its not surprising that it needs to be double-bagged at arms-length.