Idling yesterday in Dorchester, I heard the music of Northumbrian pipes - I'd just left Waterstones, with its bright reef of Sci Fi paperbacks - I skim read
The Incredible Shrinking Man - I remembered watching the movie, wide eyed on the settee, shuddering as Scott fought off the loathsome spider - now, in my sixth decade, I still felt the same wonderful horror -
I paused to listen to the pipes - the bearded musician could have led a band of border reivers - I imagined him astride a shaggy pony, snow upon his leather coat - behind him, smoke would rise in black feathers to a white sky -
I placed a coin in the case for the pipes - I was rewarded with a flinty smile -
14.30
February 13 2014
Trinity Street
Dortchester
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