I used to spend the weekends in a first-floor flat
in Ashton-Under-Lyne. It looks onto a narrow cobbled street for foot traffic
only. It was a convenient rabbit run for
people returning home from socialising at weekends. One Friday night I was in
bed listening to music when I heard a couple showing (so loudly I was forced to
turn up The Carpenter Greatest Hits to number 8 on the volume knob.) Worried
about my car I eventually peeped out of the window and but the moment had
passed and the couple were walking away with a frosty distance between them.
On Sunday morning I was leaving the flat when I saw
a woman stuck on the stone wall. She was face down on the wall, not moving
much. Why was she up there? Over the wall is a steep embankment down to
railways tracks. You’d only mount the wall to walk around it to jump in front
of an oncoming train (in the fifteen years I’d owned the flat there’ve been
four suicides that I knew of.) She’d knocked my bin on its side to help get
herself onto the wall.
I made sure she could see me and she said hello
without embarrassment. “Its only beer cans and dead
cats over there,” I said. This was true - someone had once thrown a dead cat over
the wall.
It worked out she was the woman who I’d heard
arguing in the early hours. She been out to some pubs with her partner but
she’d spent so much time on her mobile phone he’d furiously snatched it from
her and tossed it over the wall.
I fetched some ladders from the flat, climbed over
the wall and retrieved the phone from the foliage (still working.)
So here is a painting of woman stuck on a wall.
While painting it there were I saw some crimson sunsets out of my bedroom
window so I thought I’d put in the painting.
The woman in this painting has some shapely legs
and is wearing stilettos and is stuck on a fence. In reality the woman was
built like a baby hippo, was wearing cheap trainers and was stuck on a stone
wall (I doubt a flimsy wooden fence would have held her weight.) Stilettos are
not easy to paint from underneath. It would have been easier if I’d made it
look like the woman had taken them off the get over the fence. I painted the
cat in remembrance of Twinkle my cat who I still miss.