Angels in Roman Road ...

From time to time, I have a desire to walk louche streets, to exchange the gentle pavements of Wareham for those bordered with shuttered off licenses and 24 hour convenience stores - I want stroll past hooded, shuffling, figures rather than contented retirees - I want to see pit bulls, gleaming torpedoes with teeth, not placid labradors -

I have always had this hankering to don a disguise, to become invisible, to steal through different worlds - I can remember Annick taking me to club full of bikers - she said they were Hells Angels - I'm not so sure - there was a huge spider, made out of beer can ring pulls, hanging from the ceiling - the dive was full of smoke - the juke box played heavy metal music -

I was astonished when the bearded man pushing the juke box buttons, having glanced in my direction, put on Magnolia by J J Cale - how did he know that song was so precious to me? - Annick smiled - he knows what music you are - 

So, when I walk down Roman Road, to see Sophie and Paul, I feel as though I'm on the border of a different world - there's the Singh Super Market - the Plaza London Hotel - Global Kebab - Bangle and Carat - 

Early one New Year's Eve, we went into the Singh Supermarket - the slender young man behind the counter was handing out pizza to his friends - he pointed to a slightly older, broader, youth - this is my brother - he has come to see us from Dacca - we are having a party! - 

At that moment, I wanted to throw away my green tweed jacket - I thought of all the worlds one could imagine or enter - I let my eyes sweep over the scene before me - the thin brown fingers holding a slice of pizza - the racks of chilled beers - the avalanches of tortilla chips - the nervous, sinewy, necks - the CC TV monitor over the till - the darkness falling outside the brilliantly lit interior -

My heart lurched - every casual word I heard seemed full of deep significance - every figure inside the shop an angel encountered unaware -