Saturday, January 22, 2011
• Distance 1.89 k
• Time -immaterial
• Weather – parky
So once again I ran round Hove Park. OH got to do the bit today that I did yesterday as in I drove there so he could run at race pace down to the park, round the park and then be driven home. All very nice.
On the way – running in opposite directions so as not to annoy each other – he saw a Cairn terrier and stopped to say hello to it. I saw a thong.
It was a pink and black thong, in the undergrowth at the Engineerium end of the park. That’s the kind of thing—at this time of year—that makes you take a quick detour to check that they aren’t any other garments: or worse, body parts, lurking out of sight. Well, it makes me detour, you might be more dedicated a runner, more sensitive a soul, or less ghoulish an imaginer.
• I once saw what I thought was a set of finger bones in the mulch under trees on the Waterhall road: it wasn’t, it was one of those glow in the dark creepy hands, probably thrown out of a car window, but it inspired a story (which I haven’t sold yet) about a woman who does find a skeletonised hand in the woods but has her own reasons for not telling anybody … (that's one of Ren Holton's stories if you happen to be a horror mag looking for a suspense filled psychological tale)
• And I once found a pair of seamed stockings on a run – they were tied, lovingly, in a bow, around one of those yellow utility markers you find on the side of the road. That led to a story (which appeared in an erotica anthology) about a young woman who ‘earns’ a pair of black market silk stockings on Victory in Japan Day. (That's one of Carmel's and it's in the Breast Cancer antho put together by Xcite Books)
There was nothing in the undergrowth of the park other than the thong, and it has obviously been there for a looongish time. Two or three weeks, maybe even before Christmas, which would make a certain kind of sense, given that it was a piece of party underwear if ever I saw one: by which I mean it looked incredibly uncomfortable and faintly tacky.
It reminded me again that my mind doesn’t work like other peoples’. Possibly the Cairn terrier had left the park before it crossed my path, or I would definitely have said hello to it too. But OH did not see the thong. From the pristine condition of the mud under the trees, nobody else but me had bothered, if they did see it, to explore whether there was anything else to be seen. I often think it would be nice to have the kind of mind that didn’t build ghastly worst-case scenarios out of random objects, but then, what would I have to write about?
PS - this is not the thong. The thong I saw was tackier, dirtier and quite a bit saggier!