From my window, sipping on a mug of apple juice, I watched the people standing in the street. One of them was wearing a t-shirt which tightly embraced her stomach, which was fortunately large enough to provide ample insulation in the cold relentlessness of November. Her companion was sporting bright white trainers and a tracksuit which I assumed was designed to attract even the most colour blind of people, the violent pink delightfully exaggerating her orange face, lank dark hair framing an entertaining snarl, and eyebrows akin to the likes of the African mongoose. My judgement stemmed not from their hilarious appearance, myself also guilty of frequenting the local KFC in orange Muppets lounge pants, but from the enjoyable discussion which was echoing throughout the street, reverberating from their mouths.

‘If you’re not back at Keith’s,’ yelled the one in the t-shirt, whom I also had noticed was holding the hand of a corpulent child, it’s mouth permanently sucking on the delights of a chicken nugget, ‘… if you’re not back at Keith’s for nine tonight, I am calling the police, and I mean it this time!’ I took the liberty of opening the window to listen more closely, but all of a sudden they dispersed into the night, taking their fat child with them. My heart yearned for more information- who was Keith? – how many times had this happened before? – and how in God’s name was the poor chicken nugget still resisting such an onslaught of saliva and nose-based goo? The apple juice began to taste of disappointment, and I thought at some point I should probably do some washing up, so I could stop drinking beverages from a Doctor Who mug.

I had been hesitant with people watching at first, wondering intently, could they see me? Though apparently not. My desk by the window was three levels up; no one ever really chose to look up, more distracted by their fat children and shopping bags filled with ketchup and alcohol, the general currency of life.

Most days I would sit and watch the people, popcorn and Cadbury’s Fingers playing the role of the perfect accompaniment. Though sometimes the scenes I would watch became repetitive and distant, as when you say a word too frequently and it begins to feel unreal, like floor or moustache. Sometimes I could feel a presence behind me, though I could never quite find the energy to look up at the ceiling.


9 thoughts on “Surveillance

  1. I feel I don’t speak to you as much as I’d like to. You’re not taking the cocaine again are you?

    I love people watching, I’ll pause whatever I’m watching just to get into the mind of the person yelling at someone else. I was at Morrison’s Saturday and this womans yelling at her kid because she wouldnt stay still in the trolley; she had a trolley with two kids in it, that’s the only reason she got one. What kind of lazy fucker is that going to grow up to be? Then she looks at me in a “what the fuck are you looking at” kind of way and I stared at her back in a “you ya daft bitch” way.


    1. I’m all about the glue sniffing these days, Pete, sheesh- keep up with the times, yeah?! Although in all seriousness I haven’t been running around WordPress flailing my arms about very much these days. There is life and the monsters in my head that like to keep me wrapped up in a blanket, sitting in the bath with a shotgun, waiting for the zombies to come through the door. And when they do, I will offer them biscuits, and poop myself in fear.

      You know the stuff. Much love.


    1. Thank you for the lovely comment Annie! I’m not as proud of this one as I am of some of my others, but the apple juice moral is something which I hope many people will hold in their hearts for an eternity :)


    2. Let the pride go with your words, love. They always mean something different to us anyway. I really enjoyed this one… or maybe it was the popcorn and Cadbury Fingers. I enjoyed something a lot! ♥


  2. Lol, Hilarious… It makes me think of earlier today when I heard some Live Mexican Mariachi Music coming from outside my window… Now I live in a canyon valley in the hills, so this was no typical thing, Lol

    I went out on the deck and could hear it even better somewhere down in the trees in the valley below

    It actually sounded kinda Awesome… Not sure why I like it exactly… Maybe because I Love Mexican food… Or maybe because my Grandma used to take my brother and I to this old Mexican area in L.A. to an old Catholic Church… And they’d play it outside

    But enough of my rambling, Lol

    Great Piece Anna… I wanta see these Muppet Lounge Pants, Lol



    1. Thanks Dark Jade! And that’s so lovely about your Grandma, I love it when music brings back floods of memories. Sometimes it can make you feel a little sad, but the happiness always outweighs the sprinklings of darkness :)


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