I NEEDED to get a few things from the shops, so made a list.
This is it.
Just 4 items, that’s all I needed and if I was being honest then I didn’t really need the tofu because that’s what the soya beans were for (to make tofu), and I certainly didn’t need the sugar – no one ever needs that. I could have lived without the soya beans and tahini for a couple of days too.
A modest list don’t you think?
After I’d written the list and was on the way to the shops I remembered I needed bread so headed up to the deli in Pontcanna to grab some Allen’s organic.
I FANCIED a white loaf 
– it’s a rare treat, a good simple old-fashioned bake – makes great toast.
From Pontcanna I meandered in the general direction of Cowbridge Road East, or Cabbage Road – as the street is aptly named by MR Marc Robert Roberts of Zeuk and Chapter fame.
I WAS STRUCK by the super-abundance of brightly-coloured flowers and lush green foliage that adorned the front gardens in Pontcanna Street, Plasturton Avenue, Sneyd Street and Kings Road.
I TOOK a few pics on the way to Cabbage Road; and wrote a song in my head. More on the song in a later post. Here’s a montage of the photos:
I WENT to Home Bargains to get the sugar. I lost the plot a bit and found myself wending my way up and down the aisles, staring at the contents of the shelves, looking for that elusive ‘something’. I kept seeing the same few people doing the same as I was, stumbling around like post-consumerist zombies, trapped in a loop of comestibles and consumables until the end of time.
I WENT ON to the health shop to get the tofu, soya beans, and tahini, then realised that in my stupor I’d forgotten to get the sugar from Home Bargains, but rather than go back there, partly because of the queues at the checkout, I went on to Tesco, even though it would cost me 20p more for the same amount of the sweet stuff – and it’s bloody Tesco, but there you go – nobody’s perfect.
I WALKED back via the Chapter Arts Centre where there was a crowd in the bar watching a clownish-looking man and a woman in a yellow wig throwing each other around to a sound track of cartoon-like noises.
The aforementioned MR M R Roberts was working behind the counter.
“What’s that all about?” I asked.
“It’s art,” he said.
“I thought it was dance,” I said.
“Dance-Art,” he said, nodding wisely.
“Ah!”
WHEN I got home I unpacked the shopping
AFTERWARDS I went to see my friend on the other side of town. For the first time in many visits I noticed he had several little buddha ornaments and versions of Bagpuss and Tigger about the place; they were poking out between houseplants, on the edge of the coffee table, that sort of thing.
WHEN I arrived he looked a bit rough.
“I’ve got the heebie-jeebies,” he said. “Can’t go out or anything.”
“Aw!” I said. “Anything I can do?”
“Nah!” he said. “It’s my own fault. I’ve been doing something I shouldn’t have been doing.”
“Ah!” I said. Have you slipped off the wagon again?”
He nodded.
I shook my head – it wasn’t good. He’s got a history of over-consumption of alcohol – it’s had serious consequences for his health.
“I know,” he said sheepishly. “I’m a fucking twat – an idiot.”
“I’ve been popping morphine tabs as well,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes, it’s the only thing that works.”
“They’re really addictive, you better watch out.”
“I know,” he said. “Three days of hell to get off that stuff.”
I nodded.
“Not as bad as giving up alcohol though,” he said. “When you’re as dependent as I used to be. You can’t suddenly stop drinking. It’s dangerous.”
I nodded again.
“You can die from that – I found out too late.”
I had to laugh. It took him a while to see the funny side, but he got there in the end.
“I’m starting to feel better now,” he smiled.
BEFORE I left he gave me an aloe vera leaf to squeeze on a small burn I had on my finger.
“It’s magic,” he said.
More on that song later . . .
