Bartholomew Utterswaithe, our 65 year old Nottingham correspondent and unemployed Gas Street lamp wick trimmer, found himself housebound the other day.
Partly due to his arthritis, losing his free-bus-pass, the flapping holed sole of of his right shoe, and the lousy wet weather.
He was straining a thrice-used Asda tea bag, and thought about what he might be missing on his cancelled wonderful walk through Nottingham.
He takes up the story... no hang on, he'll take up the story when he returns from the loo.
.... ah here he comes....
I feel rather sad really, realising the many things I had come to expect to see and enjoy on my daily hobble into Nottingham and by bus-ride back home again.
The skills I've acquired over the years in avoiding the dog poo on the way to the main road.
Checking for the gangs of yobs, and taking a different route.
The skilful way I avoid the stones thrown at me, and ignore having my parentage questioned by the little mites in the playground as I pass the Junior school.
The pleasure of guessing to myself, where the next road blocked off while the police investigate the murder, stabbing, or fire-bombing that took place the previous night will be situated.
Using my vast experience and skills in spotting and avoiding the beggars, Big Issue sellers, and pickpockets as I approach the city centre.
Observing the playful way in which the shoplifters are removed from the stores to the police vehicles.
Popping into the 99p store to be short-changed, sneered at and overcharged, I have to appreciate their consistency.
Moving along to the Pound shop, and getting out without physical injury is very rewarding - reminds me of jumble sales in the 1960's.
The clever way in which I take the routes less likely to be shat on by the pigeons, not always successfully I admit... all this experience is invaluable.
To stand and watch Himmler, the parking attendant, with his chest out, and weighed down with all his pouches, machines, and tackle around his midrift, strutting up and down Mansfield Road, as he totally ignores cars parked on the pavement, and in the disabled bay.
And wondering if his ticket machine actually works, I've never seen him use it yet this year.
The lunchtime drunks falling out of the pubs can be entertaining too.
I often wonder if I am the only person to see the drug dealing going on in the city library and McDonald's?
Avoiding the gangs of lager swilling pot smoking gentlemen who gather outside of the three benefit offices in the city centre is an essential part of surviving a walk through town!
The gentle whiff of rotting decay rising from the canal, as the ducks try to navigate around the shopping trolleys, condoms, empty cider bottles, and bicycles is always worth a look.
The constant melodious sound of intruder, car, and emergency vehicle sirens and klaxon's, mingle with voices and curses of people being arrested, the children swearing, and the many different languages being spoken, all blend together to create a distinctively Nottingham sound that should be appreciated.
I might pop into the Arboretum to feed the birds, get mugged, or have a meeting with my financial advisor.
An essential part of my strolls through the City Centre, is to count the many and ever increasing number of retail premises closed down, for sale, lease, or rent. I do a report each month for the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society's newsletter.
I'll often stand outside Starbucks, Caffe Nero or Costa Coffee, and sniff in the aroma, watching the people inside who can afford a cup.
The quick check on the many many Charity shops - but they cannot help me!
Ah I do miss my daily walk into Nottingham!
