I often jog through the local
park and throw a few broken biscuits down for the squirrels (they're so tame
they run toward you.) Leaving the park I get onto Chapel Street - a nice downhill
run. One day I nearly ran into a tall ladder leant up against one of the terraced
houses. On the doorstep was a bottle of milk and up the ladder was a man in a
dressing gown. Chapel Street lies on a hill so he'd wedged a piece of wood
under a foot of the ladder. It was windy and the man's hair was flailing about.
When he saw me I asked if he wanted me to hold the ladder. He put a thumb up
but didn't proceed to do anything up there. Had he frozen? Slowly he came back
down and said he'd locked himself out of the house. I couldn't understand what
he was doing as the horizontal upstairs window was closed. He said that years
ago he'd been throwing a front door key out of the window for someone but it
had landed on the windowsill. It was still there.
I didn't offer to go up the ladder as I'd only reach
the forth rung before I started trembling. Perhaps I should have offered though
as when the man crawled back up the ladder I saw he wasn't wearing any
underwear beneath his dressing gown. My eyes glimpsed a sort of thick black tumbleweed
with soft peaches dangling out of it. There're some things you can't delete
from your mind and this is one of them. Oh dear (I've only ever been able to eat
tinned sliced peaches since.....no full peaches.)
I should be grateful though: this man inspired
this painting. It's a bit of an odd one isn't it but I'm sure the world has
sufficient paintings of flowers in vases. It's refreshing to see an unusual
painting now and then. I've altered the viewers angle so you've not looking
directly up at the man's undercarriage. I added the cat in the window but there
wasn't one there on the day of the ordeal.
You could buy this for £8,446 and hang it in your
lounge. If you guests are running out of conversation you could talk about this
unremarkable piece of art. I can post it to you tomorrow after the heavy-handed
nurse "Sherman Tank" Charlene has rammed my clavicle back into place
with her mallet.