Hay Bae #4 - One Marigold Mary
Hay Bae, you good?
I’ve had to get a couple of buses recently, and I’ll be honest - I dunno what I’m doing. Someone told me that you have to get on at the back now, which I was 100% ready for. I geared myself up for it, you know? I thought - I’ll give the driver a little wave so they know my intentions, and then I’ll hop on the back like we’re in a parallel universe that I’m totally fine with. But then the thing arrives, and every mothafucka is still getting on via the front doors as if we ain’t in no pandemic. I thought bus drivers were at high risk (which is crazy when you think about it because they’re behind all that glass, and also they change drivers every 10 stops, and also they don’t let anyone else touch their little coin tray, and also bus drivers have been practising socially distanced greetings for years now by waving to one another from their cab windows, and also you’d think they’d have built up an immunity on account of being spat at by so many horrible school children, and also London buses haven’t accepted cash is ages now, and also I have no virological knowledge at all so you shouldn’t listen to me on a delicate, and quite sad subject like this). All I’m saying is, let’s pick a bus door and stick to it. We don’t need more confusion.
I went to the estate agents today to sign for my new flat tenancy. Was pretty smooth, and I’m jazzed to be moving in on Saturday. Hackney is a pretty lush area - very trendy and that. I’m pretty sure Nathan Barley was based on Hackney / Shoreditch & you can really tell. A lot of bold fashion choices in the local area that would perhaps have once been “ridiculed” but are now “really-cool”. It’s the only place I’ve been (and granted, I’ve not been to many places over the past few months) where people have taken to wearing actual washing up Marigolds in public. I understand being cautious, but you’re not handling plutonium, hun. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong though, and Hackney is just the sort of place where you’ve got to be ready to wash up a saucepan at the drop of a hat. There’s probably some sort of radical, co-operative “wash your pots for the price of your restaurant bill” themed diner initiative that I’ve yet to stumble across.
There was a woman at the bus stop who only had one pink marigold on. One Marigold Mary, I call her. It was like she had a huge anxiety about the safety of her right hand, to the point that a simple surgical glove just wouldn’t be thick enough to protect it. But her left hand? Fuck that guy. He can fend for himself. You got 5 fingers buddy, put em to use!
I love signing papers. I’ll sign anything, me. Just ask me to initial & signature “here… here… and here” and I promise you I will not be reading the small print. I just love feeling like I’m in an American Hollywood Film from the United States. Maybe I’m a fancy lawyer, or I’m signing some big business acquisition. Or some sort of affidavit (whatever the fuck that is).
After the deeds were signed, I took a little walk to Lidl. Yeah, not to brag - but I’m gonna live near a Lidl. To be honest, this is all I’ve ever wanted from my life. I remember a few years back, the closest supermarket to me was either a Waitrose or a Sainsbury’s Local. At the time, I was living in a pokey little studio flat that had one of those beds that pulls down from a cupboard. Like, it actually had that. Like how they do in American Films from the USA, Howdy Partner, In God We Trust & Denny's & Coke & Cigarettes With Weird White Filters On.
I swore I’d never pay that much for a tin of ravioli again. And now I never have to. Man, now that I think about it - I absolutely love Ravioli. Little pillows filled with cheese in a tomato sauce? Mate. 1 of your 5 a day as well, you know. Hmm, shall I have a skanky old banana - all dry and mushy? Or should I have a tin of ROCK AND ROLL RAVIOLI?! No question. Dish up them pillows, chef. I'm feelin' wild.
Anyway Bae, it was nice chatting 2 u. Same time tomorrow? Buh-Bye.