Hurty eyes

My eyes hurt. They’re tired. I’m tired. One of the problems with being a freelance copywriter is the ebb and flow of work – right now, it’s flow, which is good for the bank balance, but bad for the delineation between working week and weekend, and actually day and night. But I took advantage of the odd hours I kept this weekend to pick my way into town not long after dawn.

Not a bad haul, all in all – 55p, made up from an assortment of coppers, 5ps and 10p pieces. Certainly made it worthwhile. It’s a funny thing though – you’d hope to have the streets to yourself, bar the pigeons pecking at the discarded kebabs, chips and burgers – but people are around. A shrill motorbike disturbed the quiet, a clattering diesel transit, a strange man who was telling either the pigeons or me to f*ck off. I rather resent all that. Strangely, the motorbike more than the abusive oddball…

Earlier in the week I came across odd coinage here and there, so over the week I’ve added another pound or so to the collection.

One day, while sitting outside my usual coffee haunt, a rude boy car drove by, and the passenger shouted out the window: “G – O – O – H!” He seemed to aim this abbreviation in the direction of a nine-foot blonde with shrink-wrapped clothing. What did it mean?! Perhaps he was dyslexic and reading her his personal ad from the lonely hearts column – GSOH. I don’t know…all very odd…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s