Now here’s another occasion where a half decent zoom lens would make a dull photograph a little better. I was very taken with the red “Resto” sign on the “Terminus” restaurant on the other side of the railway lines. Unfortunately fifteen minutes’ walk from the post office gave me this rather dismal and short-sighted view.
I went to the Post Office in order to purchase some postage stamps (“how original”, I hear you mutter). I asked for two dozen reds and two dozen greys the old-fashioned first-class and second class having been replaced by colour-coded Mariannes (Marianne is the lady on the stamp where the Queen should be).
The postal worker brought out the latest novelty series, adorned with attractively rendered pictures of cereals (wheat, barley, oats, millet etc… not Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs*). “No,” I complained, “these are for putting on letters to the income tax people and all those other soul-sucking, debt collecting, vampire organisations we are prey to. Give me the boring red ones.”
She told me that if she worked for inland revenue she would be delighted to receive pretty stamps (along with my hard-earned cash). Well, she would, but then I kind of imagine that’s why she sells stamps in the first place rather than working in the tax office. Duh.
My walk took me across the river and down a street opposite the concisely named Church of Our Lady of the End of the Bridges. A street that I never usually take because I always thought it was a dead end and also because it goes to the job centre (dead end?). A place that awakens memories of being a freelance worker in the noughties and having to produce reams of documents, affidavits, testimonials and other credentials proving that I was seeking employment sufficiently assiduously and earnestly.
Imagine my surprise when I came across Liberty’s head poking out of this rather interesting edifice:
Just around the corner from the job centre there were a few shabby looking caravans. A man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his stomach hanging out of his shirt watched me suspiciously as I took a picture of the Resto.
On the way back on the other side of the road a little floral surprise was waiting for me.
* preferred breakfast of Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes. Hobbes prefers tuna sandwiches.