Another Side. Victoria Park, 19th April.
The sun is as high and hot as mid-summer. On my way back from Hackney, I sit a while in Victoria Park and read in dappled shadow - or rather I look at the pages while thinking about a smoothie and wondering if that orange juice in the fridge has gone off. You have to be quick with the fresh squeezed ones. I have to use up the blueberries anyway, they cost about a quid each. I shouldn’t have bought them. It was too much of an investment. A faint breeze tickles the grass.
Voices on the path nearby - a man, dark glasses and black t-shirt stretched tight, is walking with a younger woman in skinny jeans.
Man: … she said ‘Don’t touch me!’ and it like - ‘alright love!’. Then I touched off her again by ACCIDENT- we were ALL dancing together like - and she said ‘Back off!’. THEN her two friends just left and it’s like - Who does that?! Leaves their mate alone with three blokes?!
Woman: I would NEVER….
Man: and then once they’re gone she turns to me and says ‘So are we going back to mine then?’. And I was like ‘What?!’….
Woman: I bet you were thinking ‘wow’….
Their voices fade. Two lads pass on bikes “- it sounds like a hard language to learn - ”, three women pass with trollies “…now that’s my middle one, she’s the organised one…”
I imagined there’s another side to that man’s story being told in another sun-baked park today - possibly with hot angry tears.