This morning, on my way to work, I was walking up a quiet street, my mind pleasantly blank and summery. Coming towards me, I dimly noticed, was a woman of a certain age, dressed in hippyish style, with abundant greying hair and a somewhat ravaged face. As she drew near, she began to sing - as well as she could with a fag in her mouth - Bob Dylan's Sign on the Window. I gave her a smile of recognition, but she was off somewhere far away, with just the song.
Sign on the window says Lonely,
Sign on the door says no company allowed...
My day was suddenly brighter and more strange.
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And she's now brightened my day too. Thanks, Nige.
ReplyDeleteNo cabbage though? A bit of a disappointment.
ReplyDeleteOh I think that qualifies as a Mitcham Cabbage (or at least sprout).
ReplyDeleteSorry - being overly literal. Of course it was a cabbage figuratively speaking (or at least a sprout). My idiomatic Mitchamese isn't what it might be.
ReplyDeleteThere's a lady in Wellington, also of a certain age, who dances down Lambton Quay in the evenings, presumably on her way home from work. Always puts a smile on my face too, happiest commuter I've ever seen!
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