Phil Kay
It’s summertime and the living is reekie.
t is definitely a summer. I can tell. the puddles are slightly warmer and
the lady I meet in the park — the lady who sometimes will never let you
go from her chat. who will stand and let you get into a half pace away and continue with the tiniest of tone changes and hold you by a thread of your own compassion — she tells me her son bought some new sandals ten days ago and he hasney been able to wear them.
As I walk through the park coming in past a terrace of architects' offices where a few women look out at ten past nine from their monitors' corners as if it‘s my fault. I see the fantastic new benches. ready for summer and each one with their very own bin right next to them. right to the side to give you a front row seat to watch the wasps rise on the thennals of reek.
lmagine pre-booking on the net and knowing you could relax in advance and sit and be waiting there as friendly couples would make their way over to maybe chat. then they 1 would smile and drop a shite in a bag into the bin or a heavy unfinished can or maybe just some pastry wrappers which they have to shake from their fingers and a bit of something comes flying to you and sticks on your shoulder breast and you leave it there so as not to upset them.
As I walk through the summer park the ducks all look like they have been in a scuffle and had their necks taken. a tee-total loony magpie comes around: ‘. . . seen my new watch‘?‘ Roses look demoralised and hungover after a rough night.
A tremendous cyclist goes past. one of the mahogany-thighed elders. blasé to his own shorts which may or may not zip on to the rest of a pair of Rohans. one of those men in
John Fardell H
As Crag Pride comes to Edinburgh, we, Silouid spare
a thou int {or come to tfifms with being part of an inL-YCAkaljlv ostramzed minority; group.
seriously roasted legs who are hired by a city to represent summer. Perhaps he walks deserts or has been sand blasted by them or has just had them spit-tanned. they are as leathered pistons. the well-basted shiny shirts of food photography.
It must be summer. some kids offered me their new Buckfast bottle and then told me as l supped its mysterious flat llavour like re—heated Bisto- Ribena left outside over night. that they ‘didn't think I was the fitness type . . .'
But that was yesterday and I had a bike.
It is certainly summer for even ('lyde FM is putting up posters with the word Ibiza on them.
It must be summer. the tiger in the park is nearly finished.
Because there are so many leaves the wind gets to have its own sound through diffe rent trees and I consider getting good enough to apply to go on ‘You Bet' to identify
A cyclist goes
past; one of I . ¥ I I k
those men m -
ser'ous'y clipping from the park
roasted legs who and prune it all away
h. d b subconsciously until I
are Ir? y can vase it in the pen
a (“W to pocket on my arm.
represent summer.
And the Yellow Pages are here rising like a slow stilt up the close stairs. until they are accepted into people’s flats finally to mate with last year's one which will outlive it. like some variation on salmon. Summer is here and on Woodlands Road a poster for Jersey even looks relatively wartn. so exciting.
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Are lt': probabng just a plume ye’re going through
I’m homophobic.’ Were! I’ve raid t't.’
Mum Dad I’ve got -‘ something to cell gout.
Whit is it , Calium?
l...|..¢hmk that I’m... No. .lt'; the well, I know that l’m. wag I am... I’ve known
l’m.. l’m... ham... Prom...
(or some tin?-
ye Sure , son P
.. and) before I knew it , l was going to dirrepumb/e bar! it) meet, other men (like me , (r: inc/u/gé’
At Firm. .‘t was; just a mild dataxe {or homosexual culture...
T item I found Myseilc in map 595510"; of reckless coming out, with o'er a/ murmur”... bigoted refilarks g;- vtm , ..... .q
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Butt we’ll try tae Jupfoft
U9, Callum... Come with ye (“mush {11.}...
i“ us me watch the Gag
; Pride march on Saturday. ThankS,Dad... - And thew/C’s ‘t something else...
128 THE LIST 21 Jun—5 Jul 2001
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