Monday, July 05, 2010

Dylan didn't care

I looked at Due Sardi from the back seat of the cab I was comfortably sat and the pizzeria was open, business as usual. When I say 'I looked', we've got to make sure we understand how that look was. There are different types of how you look at things from the back seat of an English cab.

You can be a completely lost tourist in Tokyo and you'd just be bending over to kiss the window with your cheeks to be able to see the top of the tall buildings and the details between the millions of people crossing the street, amazed and looking stupid from outside. If your body type is short, you're in for a good laugh even.

You might be cool and indifferent. You'd be looking but you ain't be seeing. You've just thrown a couple of dead blue eyes into the setting dark.

Or you'd be looking with a purpose to see what you know is there, or is not there. That's the one I just had then.

Take a walk down the Strand and then on towards Fleet Street on a nice summer's evening. You'll appreciate the calm of the narrow streets and can tell the difference between a steel-and-glass and a Victorian. You can even appreciate the depth and the width of the sky, and you won't be seeing much of that throughout the year anyway.

I realised I had to pee. Take a piss soon. Otherwise I was determined to walk all the way home. That's when I decided to take a cab. If I hadn't, I would have gotten away by spending another ௨௩ on top of my 2 pints of cider if I had just taken the bus but instead I ended up वसा pounds by taking the cab. And you know people in London are always so worried about saving another quid or more. That's precisely why you just got to bite the bullet and take the freaking cab. You can't piss in your pants and this is important.

I realised I had exactly Xx.Yy change in my pocket and for a reason I don't know (and I never know this) I felt it would be rude to give the cabbie the exact amount I owed him. So, I told him to pull aside before the bridge, although I lived on the other side of the bridge. He was happy I tipped him the marginal amount. But the bloody driver wouldn't just leave and it would be stupid if I crossed the bridge to go home after having told him to drop me off before the bridge. You understand my concern, right? I tipped the guy and I am ashamed if I have to walk further than he dropped me off. So, I felt obliged to go to my local crazy Turkish shop. I ended up buying 2 bananas and condensed (Greek style) yoghurt.

That was a bit foolish and expensive, but I was home and the cabbie had driven away. Most importantly, I avoided pissing in my pants, and if I took a bus, god knows what would have happened. I was listening to Bob Dylan and I think he would just do the same I did. He wouldn't even care. If he did, I couldn't care less.