Coasting

A ten minute drive from the southside to the city centre.

Pulling up at traffic lights, I clock two bikers in the rear view mirror. Driving side by side, they're coasting to a halt. I notice that they're chatting. Assuming that it's a man and a woman - partners, lovers, petrolheads - it's an image that strikes me as quite mundane, but beautiful all the same. As they halt, I notice that it's two men. The lights go green and I take a right, up Stoke Road (above).

Passing the college, a couple of young women look like they've just left one of their Beauty Therapy classes. The uniforms may be crisp, but the deep orange trowelings of their own make-up brings to mind the young man who said that he'd be joining a construction course. 'Make-up'. Make what up. The objective of this course, is for you to become expert in helping other people to look minimally idiotic. There will be occasions when this proves to be an objective too far.

Through Snowhill, it makes a pleasant change to note a lack of emergency service vehicles.

Curving towards the city centre, the junction with College Road ahead to my right, I note St Marks church. There's a bus shelter with a shatterproof plastic 'window' in it. Therein, there's a great big hole. I think a wordy thought about 'holy' and a possible photograph - one that I won't return to take.

Thick traffic, where to park, time to concentrate.
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