Up early today to get into work to do more fucking nit picky stuff for fucking 'Daz'. Apparently the blacks are too black for the printers now, even though he asked for it to be that black but won't now admit that, the cunt. It was just about breaking morning when I set off, the street lights vile orange still spilling out onto the trees. A few months time and it will be like this every morning. Walked past the church, there was a collared dove pecking at the surface of a very old grave in the churchyard. A small pile of dog shit on the pavement, it is quite incredibly black, to the point it seems to be sucking light in. A squirrel was across the road from the park area, he didn't want to be there, only way back is across the main road which probably wasn't busy when he first crossed over. I wanted to help him as he wandered lost around the new block of flats, but accepted that would be quite ridiculous to attempt. I've always felt guilty since I drove past in the car when a cat was in the middle of the road. He was dead I should have thought, but I couldn't be certain of it. I just carried on but then a short while later I was thinking 'well, he had no obvious sign of injury so he might just have been glanced and needed taking to the vets. Or even if he was dead you should have got him off the road so the family who own it don't have the horrid sight of the body mashed into the road, which it will by now.' Just a few weeks later I saw a cat, dead, on the grassy verge down Copers Cope Road (silly road name). He was unmarked but I crossed and it just sort of looked quite peaceful. Maybe it just had a heart attack or something as there definitely wasn't a mark on it. He was a beautiful plush, portly tabby, I stroked the fur, he was still a little warm. As I looked round I could see cats everywhere, looking over from the tops of fences, from windowsills and walls. I walked on, leaving the body resting in the fallen leaves. Pathetically, one of the things that is still imprinted vividly on my brain is seeing a cat get run over when I was a teenager back home. I was waiting for a bus off the big roundabout at the end of The Nook in Shields. A car came bombing round and glanced a black cat. He didn't stop. The cat spun round in circles with blood pissing out of its head screaming wildly before stumbling on to the verge and slowly crumpling to a dead, bloody heap. I picked it up trying to think of what to do, if there was a vets to run to or anything but it was already clearly dead so I just put him down and waited for my bus, still in a state of shock. I realise that sounds absolutely pathetic but I haven't had too many encounters with death or horrid injury and that little thing has never left me. Just a month or so after the dead cat in the road I was walking up the road the day after bonfire night when I noticed a dead squirrel lying in the leaves with a burn hole square in the chest. I realised he must have been unfortunate to have been hit by a stray rocket from one of the nearby gardens. he was laid out in a comical death pose, limbs all splayed out lying flat on his back. Poor bugger, talk about bad luck.
The bus driver is driving very fast, I wonder if I would survive if there was a crash, I am in one of the sideways seats and there's an awful lot of metal tubing nearby.
I'm off to a 'do' tonight, nowt special but I have gone to the extra effort of wearing my linen suit with a nice shirt. I look rather ace.
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