Sunday, May 20, 2012
weathered tour pregnant
Another piece of chance paintwork weathered into something different that seems worth taking note of.
Approaching The Grove is a skein of about a dozen people led by a younger man in a suit. Rain jackets and rucksacks seem to be the order of dress. The men and women have an old, ragged quality. Not exactly lively. The young man is conducting a tour of area of Tunbridge Wells which we call The Village. He points to a chimney pot or finial with his umbrella and makes an observation. Pairs of eyes are raised and lowered. A sense of apathy prevails as the group proceeds untidily towards the park. I am in two minds about tagging on, never confident that I know enough about where I live. But fear that I might fall asleep on my feet.
Heidi and I are sitting outside The Compasses when we are joined for a few minutes by a neighbour who is pregnant. She sits down for a few minutes and talks about her expected baby knowing, as one does nowadays, that it is a boy, though it has not yet seen the light of day. As she talk about its kicking tendencies, she strokes her tummy as though comforting the child within.