Research for a Character in A Room for Romeo Brass
Walking home along the Knavesmire I see some kids - fifteen or sixteen year olds - drinking down by the racetrack in the twilight. I have a bottle of red in my bag and ask if anyone has an opener. I uncork my bottle and sit down against a post.
I am introduced to everyone, about twenty of them. They think I am the coolest teacher they have ever seen, offer me grass and say they have seen me around, usually from the window of a cafe in town. I enjoy drinking outdoors. I ask a blonde girl, who is showing off to me by sitting astride someone's chest on the grass, why she broke up with my new best friend the week before. 'Are you crazy?' I ask her. I lecture my new best friend on Live at the Royal Albert Hall 1966 in which Dylan is heckled: 'Judas!'
'Scarper!' someone shouts and everybody scarpers. I'm not one to run away. Kelsey Park, Beckenham; when a policeman approached holding his torch I walked towards him as everyone else bolted. I watched as he poured out my wine.
This time, I run at pace among the trees before stopping still. I watch as the torch grows fainter and then brighter, and having ruled out running up the hill to the road, because it could be guarded and because there is nowhere to hide on that long road, I walk towards the light.
The policewoman is accompanied by a boy, about twelve, easily the smallest of the kids I have been drinking with. I am holding a cap and bottle of wine. I watch as she pours it to the ground.
'What are you doing here?'
'One of the boys ran off suddenly leaving their cap and this wine behind, so I tried to return them.' I say. She leads the two of us up to the road and radios her team beside the white kissing gate. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch my partner returning from her shift, walking up the road towards us.
'What am I being held on?' I ask.
'I didn't say you were being held on anything,' she answers. 'If I was to hold you for something it would be for providing alcohol to minors.'
'It's just that that's my partner, and I've got to get home and tidy the place.'
*
A couple of weeks later, I pass a group of teenagers heading into town. It is impossible to recall which teenagers I met that evening. I keep my eyes to the pavement.
'Judas!' one of them shouts after me.
Walking home along the Knavesmire I see some kids - fifteen or sixteen year olds - drinking down by the racetrack in the twilight. I have a bottle of red in my bag and ask if anyone has an opener. I uncork my bottle and sit down against a post.
I am introduced to everyone, about twenty of them. They think I am the coolest teacher they have ever seen, offer me grass and say they have seen me around, usually from the window of a cafe in town. I enjoy drinking outdoors. I ask a blonde girl, who is showing off to me by sitting astride someone's chest on the grass, why she broke up with my new best friend the week before. 'Are you crazy?' I ask her. I lecture my new best friend on Live at the Royal Albert Hall 1966 in which Dylan is heckled: 'Judas!'
'Scarper!' someone shouts and everybody scarpers. I'm not one to run away. Kelsey Park, Beckenham; when a policeman approached holding his torch I walked towards him as everyone else bolted. I watched as he poured out my wine.
This time, I run at pace among the trees before stopping still. I watch as the torch grows fainter and then brighter, and having ruled out running up the hill to the road, because it could be guarded and because there is nowhere to hide on that long road, I walk towards the light.
The policewoman is accompanied by a boy, about twelve, easily the smallest of the kids I have been drinking with. I am holding a cap and bottle of wine. I watch as she pours it to the ground.
'What are you doing here?'
'One of the boys ran off suddenly leaving their cap and this wine behind, so I tried to return them.' I say. She leads the two of us up to the road and radios her team beside the white kissing gate. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch my partner returning from her shift, walking up the road towards us.
'What am I being held on?' I ask.
'I didn't say you were being held on anything,' she answers. 'If I was to hold you for something it would be for providing alcohol to minors.'
'It's just that that's my partner, and I've got to get home and tidy the place.'
*
A couple of weeks later, I pass a group of teenagers heading into town. It is impossible to recall which teenagers I met that evening. I keep my eyes to the pavement.
'Judas!' one of them shouts after me.
posted by Matt at 3:28 PM
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