Stalking part 3. We knew he knew he was one of us.

Passport photo of me at 14 years old
A teenage stalker

Please Note: This blog does not in any way advocate stalking!

It was a Wednesday in autumn when we first decided to follow him home. He’d been getting popular at school. The traitor! We’d never actually talked to him, but we knew he knew he was one of us.  Now damn it he was beginning to betray us, finding other friends. We had to take action!

We both bunked our last lessons that Wednesday, spent the time wondering round Erith market looking suspicious. We returned to the school gates at five to 4. It was a large school with 2000 students, a lot of them spending time hanging round the school gates, so we weren’t conspicuous. He came out on his own, late, head down, hands in pockets of a well designed overcoat, looking very much alone. We felt a little waft of emotion, he was one of us! Though the overcoat did suggest a level of expensive fashion that we could, despite our shop-lifting escapades, never hope to meet.

We were quite good at stalking. You might think that as teenage school girls we’d be all giggly and silly. We weren’t, we were taking it very seriously. Barely talking to each other at all, just nods and eyebrows.

He walked fast. Down the small roads and alley ways that cover Northumberland Heath. We had to almost jog to keep up with him. It was only because he stopped to get a coke from a grocers that me managed to keep on his track, though Sasha, red faced and gasping for breath, almost gave us away outside the store . We pretended to be fascinated by the marrows. They were big.

On and on he went, till I didn’t know where we were. It was posher than Erith, big houses and large trees lining the roads. He turned a corner into a wide quiet street full of detached houses, and vanished.

We were exhausted, Sasha was almost bent double wheezing and I was feeling very light headed. It was about 6 o’clock and quite dark, we had missed our usual post school activity of stuffing spaghetti hoops in front of horror movies at Sasha’s. We needed replenishment. So it was agreed we’d continue the hunt the following night but right now what we needed was an extra large Mars Bar each and some Nightmare on Elm Street.

To be continued…

Stalking part 2. The Lust of Teenage Girls

Part 1. A Bit of Old Fashioned Stalking

Part 4.With thunderbirds

 

 

A large rat, a missing cat and a Wednesday night Against Nature.

Monday 10th May 2010

George - my missing cat

I spent most of today making paper in the back garden which should have been lovely but wasn’t. Partly because I kept hoping George would suddenly appear but he didn’t, partly because what did appear was the largest rat I’ve ever seen aside from Stanley Bad.

George is my cat. He got beaten up by one of the local tom cats and has since disappeared. It has been three weeks now.

Stanley Bad is the perverse Lynda Beast replacement in the Rude Mechanicals that turned up as Lynda disappeared behind a beard. He plays violin, saw, trumpet and spoons just as well as Lynda so I’ve agreed to let him stay untill Lynda reappears. However, now I find that he is plotting against me.

I found this out at the Against Nature club opening at the Proud Galleries in Camden. Dickon Edwards is starting this new night every first Wednesday of the month and invited the Rude Mechanicals to play at the launch night. It is a lovely venue, what used to be a horse hospital with the old wood beams still holding up the place, and he booked some excellent acts. I particularly liked the magicians BARRY & STUART, one of them had a wallet with an entrance to hell in it, really, he opened it up and flames burst out. Dickon makes a fine DJ in his silk dressing gown and I think this could become a really good popular night.

Anyway back to the evil plot. Rude Mechanicals had done their soundcheck, gone to a pub to be indecisive about a set list, and were just on the way back to the venue when I heard Stanley trying to steal Tommy G away from me. Apparently Stanley wants to start his own band as a rap artist and reprogramme Tommy G to play hiphop!

Stanley the rat, the evil poisonous mutant! How dare he!

But what am I to do? He woos Tommy with his talk of exotic jazz complications. He says he will be of a higher standard than me. Huh!

That is Stanley Bad for you.

And he can’t do chocolate ads as well as me! Not that I’ve ever done a chocolate ad, but I will and it will be much better than his! Just you wait. If that doesn’t put him in his place him I have a cellar I could lock him in, naked and chained to that giant rat I saw this morning.

(The rat was in the garden, not in the house, but should I still try to get rid of it? And how? Isn’t London flooded with them? It wasn’t in the least bit scared of me, but I think I’m a little bit scared of it!)