Scenes from a coffee shop part 5

Here I am again in the place where observation meets writing and even before I sit down with my tea and biscuit the rich tapestry of creativity weaves its magnificence in the busy Glasgow street before me.

Heavily set jogging man runs hard to my side and up the path to Park Circus, his footsteps loud, clapping, and flat footed. I bet he has sore shins and lower back well before he finishes his circuit. The deep sweat stain down his back testifies this has been a hard slog in the afternoon sunshine.

My wife and I are in Glasgow today on a multi-purpose visit centred around her exams that start in around twenty minutes. Earlier today we have has the ‘pleasure’ of viewing some hovels badly disguised as flats in the city centre for which the sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds a month is asked for. That is an absolute disgrace for what are dingy, small hovels not fit for human habitation.

Anyway, I digress. It is time to pay attention to my fellow coffee dwellers. Laptop student girl with the green bandana in her hair smiles as she types away on her laptop, her ringed thumb glistening in the sunlight.

By the door a gaggle of three girls, also probably students sit talking quietly save for the occasional screech of something funny that fills the room. Another couple sit hunched over their laptop looking at images scrolling down their Google search. Two foreign students practice their grammar and written English to my side. I stifle a laugh when one tries to explain how to spell ‘should’ to the other.

It is now six pm and Leslie will be locked in a room for the next three hours, I wish her well.

I sit and pause and realise that I am tired. A huge wave of exhaustion washes over me and I wonder whether I shall fall asleep here on the couch. My eyes are heavy and if I let it, sleep would not be far away. I am jerked back into the coffee shop as the gaggle of girls let rip a loud burst of laughter, their coffee must be kicking in. And another. They rise and sort out their jackets and I think they will be sliding off any moment.

And they are gone, near silence descends upon us apart from the dulcet tones of Bill Withers singing lovely day. Fine music for this fabulous afternoon in Glasgow.

In the interim, a new customer has taken her place by the window and fires up her laptop. Superman t shirt worn proudly she types away with plenty of papers and work spread out around her.

Couple with dog enter and immediately dog makes a bolt for the counter and the food area until stubble man rescues us all from an environmental health disaster. I think the dog is called Harry. Guess what? They sit by the door and with one of those annoying extendable leads have no clue how to control the dog who sees it as his duty to check out every new customer by blocking the entrance with him and his lead. Talk about total stupidity. People like that shouldn’t be allowed to have a dog and one can only hope that they don’t decide to breed.

The woman is too engrossed in her phone to realise that the dog has got caught up in chairs on the other side of the room. I am just so relieved that Leslie isn’t here with me. This is both very annoying and another example of how people these days just don’t give a damn because they haven’t got a clue or a brain to actually think about the impact their inability to behave in a responsible manner has on those around them.

Passers-by point and wave at superman girl and she returns the compliment with a broad smile.

From out of the blue song titles and thoughts enter my head about my radio show tomorrow. I have my long song selected, but the remainder of the second hour remains unplanned. I have an idea of what I may play, but in truth it will be down to how I feel at the time from a selection of cd’s and so on that I take with me. The first hour of the show will be taken up with patient requests I have collected the hour before my show.

I look up and am not surprised to find the dog strung across the door again. He is sniffing about as though he is about to cock his leg up the doorframe. Go on Harry, go for it.

I shall sign off for a while and maybe catch more of the exquisite goings on in the coffee shop and outside later on.

The sun starts to fade as I take my leave until next time and I walk heavily footed out into the dusk trying to avoid the plethora of joggers out this time of night.

 

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About purpleandrew

Andrew, recently diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome is a 53 year old former geologist always had short hair, suited & booted for work. That all changed when the credit crunch hit. Now a complimentary therapist, hospital radio presenter, and writer. Andrew writes crime thrillers, Young Adult, and fantasy books as well as blogging about writing and other stuff that he feels strongly about.
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