Zombie Crack Heads
In the next couple of hours I have to pick my three kids up from nursery and their schools, walk them home, cook them dinner, feed them and get out to work. I suppose I've had quite a relaxing day. I'm supposed to work when my youngest daughter is at nursery, as we're paying for her to be there, but actually I haven't got much work to do. Self-employed, unemployed - what's the difference? Anyway, my printer had broken, so I had to go out and buy another one.
Nothing's ever simple in the area where I live, everything has to be planned around developing circumstances. The bus came ok; I thought that might be a good omen, and I got off the stop at the right place. However, I felt a little unsafe; my hackles wree rising. I know this part of Northolt, and it's got a bad history of muggings, murders and armed sieges. It wasn't long before I spotted the crackheads, two girls looking like famine victims, eyes like vampires checking to see if i'd got any blood. 'Have you got 20p please?' asked the white one. Her cadaverous face reminded me of Michelle, an old client of mine, whose life story could fill several volumes. She too had that sunken eyed look, all cheekbones and yearning, due to the crack and the smack. She ended up jumping out of a high window and dying with her chest opened up on the pavement - a death in custody as the police were knocking on her door at the time.
I shook off the zombie, then stepped in front of the waiting dealer's BMW, its engine revving waiting to take the money and be off. I wondered how long it could take these girls to get enough 20ps for a single rock, or a half a bag of heroin...
Once I got the printer, the cables, the ink cartridges I thought it better to get a cab home, but of course all the vampires had gone by then, probably looking for the next fix by now.
In the next couple of hours I have to pick my three kids up from nursery and their schools, walk them home, cook them dinner, feed them and get out to work. I suppose I've had quite a relaxing day. I'm supposed to work when my youngest daughter is at nursery, as we're paying for her to be there, but actually I haven't got much work to do. Self-employed, unemployed - what's the difference? Anyway, my printer had broken, so I had to go out and buy another one.
Nothing's ever simple in the area where I live, everything has to be planned around developing circumstances. The bus came ok; I thought that might be a good omen, and I got off the stop at the right place. However, I felt a little unsafe; my hackles wree rising. I know this part of Northolt, and it's got a bad history of muggings, murders and armed sieges. It wasn't long before I spotted the crackheads, two girls looking like famine victims, eyes like vampires checking to see if i'd got any blood. 'Have you got 20p please?' asked the white one. Her cadaverous face reminded me of Michelle, an old client of mine, whose life story could fill several volumes. She too had that sunken eyed look, all cheekbones and yearning, due to the crack and the smack. She ended up jumping out of a high window and dying with her chest opened up on the pavement - a death in custody as the police were knocking on her door at the time.
I shook off the zombie, then stepped in front of the waiting dealer's BMW, its engine revving waiting to take the money and be off. I wondered how long it could take these girls to get enough 20ps for a single rock, or a half a bag of heroin...
Once I got the printer, the cables, the ink cartridges I thought it better to get a cab home, but of course all the vampires had gone by then, probably looking for the next fix by now.
posted by Firegoat @ 4:00 pm
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