(no subject)
Last night, occurred an incident most curious on my way to the Old Horse public house. I left the house at around a quarter to nine, as is my wont. The weather was inclement and I was wearing a tweed coat, a brown Fedora and a pair of leather gloves. I tell you this not out of a desire to advertise my sartorial elegance, but because without these apparently irrelevant details my tale cannot properly be understood. My route took me along past the old courthouse, and the new, and up along New Walk. As befitted the time of evening and the weather, there were few people about. The path is lit by antique-looking lamps, spaced regularly and no doubt once powered by gas. I became aware of a man walking in front of me. I am not by nature a stroller and my pace was such that I was soon overhauling him. He was shabbily dressed and didn't appear to be taking the most direct route up the path. When I had approached to within a few feet of him, rearwards and off his left quarter he saw me and gave the most incredible start. He gave a little leap into the air and then bent over clutching at his heart in the style of a melodramatist.
'You really shook me up there! Bloody hell! I thought you was coming for me!' he exclaimed loudly.
'I really am terribly sorry, it wasn't my intention to give you a fright' I replied.
He explained to me that what with the hat and the long coat, I was a frightening sight, and whatismore he had been smoking hashish and drinking spirits earlier and was, by his own admission, still in the grip of the former. I had naturally slowed down to talk to him but not approached any closer. While we were talking, I was in that awkward state of not knowing whether I ought to consciously walk with him and have a conversation or walk on and treat the matter as a passing encounter. I went for an ugly compromise.
'Where are you going?' he asked.
'To London Road' I answered.
'I'm still buzzing off that weed, do you fancy a race?' he offered
'What kind of race?' I enquired.
'You see that third set of lights?'
'Yes (I didn't, but thought it best to play along)'
'First one there wins'
I'm not usually the sort of chap that engages in trials of speed with inebriated strangers along dark paths in the rain while improperly attired but I was buggered if I could think of a decent reason not to and I didn't want to seem provincial.
He started running and I immediately followed suite. I'm not sure whether it was my natural athleticism or whether the potations he had downed earlier had ruined his form, but for the second time of the evening I found myself rapidly overtaking him. My lead only increased as we both ran up the rain-washed slabs towards a distant yet unidentified set of lights. My uncertainty as to where the finishing line was located caused me to slow a little; I didn't want to totally outpace my competitor and forgoe the opportunity to parade my triumph. As I slowed, he put on an extra burst of speed, misreading my deceleration as a sign of possible weakness.
'Not those lights, those lights.'
Our destination having been made clear, I dug my heals in and flew up the road, my coat tails blowing and my hat clamped to my head with my hand. As I crossed the agreed and invisible finishing line, a groan emminated from behind me and I whirled my hat around in the air. I felt rather exhilirated, partly by my victory and partly by having agreed to take part in such a strange contest in the first place. We shook hands, chests heaving and wiped the sweat from our foreheads. He thanked me for the contest and started to walk off, before returning and introducing himself. I replied in kind, we wished each other the joy of the evening and then went our separate ways. I continued on to the pub, enlivened in body and spirit.
'You really shook me up there! Bloody hell! I thought you was coming for me!' he exclaimed loudly.
'I really am terribly sorry, it wasn't my intention to give you a fright' I replied.
He explained to me that what with the hat and the long coat, I was a frightening sight, and whatismore he had been smoking hashish and drinking spirits earlier and was, by his own admission, still in the grip of the former. I had naturally slowed down to talk to him but not approached any closer. While we were talking, I was in that awkward state of not knowing whether I ought to consciously walk with him and have a conversation or walk on and treat the matter as a passing encounter. I went for an ugly compromise.
'Where are you going?' he asked.
'To London Road' I answered.
'I'm still buzzing off that weed, do you fancy a race?' he offered
'What kind of race?' I enquired.
'You see that third set of lights?'
'Yes (I didn't, but thought it best to play along)'
'First one there wins'
I'm not usually the sort of chap that engages in trials of speed with inebriated strangers along dark paths in the rain while improperly attired but I was buggered if I could think of a decent reason not to and I didn't want to seem provincial.
He started running and I immediately followed suite. I'm not sure whether it was my natural athleticism or whether the potations he had downed earlier had ruined his form, but for the second time of the evening I found myself rapidly overtaking him. My lead only increased as we both ran up the rain-washed slabs towards a distant yet unidentified set of lights. My uncertainty as to where the finishing line was located caused me to slow a little; I didn't want to totally outpace my competitor and forgoe the opportunity to parade my triumph. As I slowed, he put on an extra burst of speed, misreading my deceleration as a sign of possible weakness.
'Not those lights, those lights.'
Our destination having been made clear, I dug my heals in and flew up the road, my coat tails blowing and my hat clamped to my head with my hand. As I crossed the agreed and invisible finishing line, a groan emminated from behind me and I whirled my hat around in the air. I felt rather exhilirated, partly by my victory and partly by having agreed to take part in such a strange contest in the first place. We shook hands, chests heaving and wiped the sweat from our foreheads. He thanked me for the contest and started to walk off, before returning and introducing himself. I replied in kind, we wished each other the joy of the evening and then went our separate ways. I continued on to the pub, enlivened in body and spirit.