Its Bin Harder To Get Home Than Before

I am a selfish person.

I got wrecked at my friend's place, as agreed taxi home to St Agnes, Badmignton Road, near M32, when I feels. Cool. I got the telephone message: "Taxi downstairs, could you come down, sir". "Bye-de-bye Andy, who was tripping by now." And off I went down the stairs. Came to the road, looked this way and that no taxi? Just then this car pulled up in front of me. Yep the taxi. I was very impressed with the timing. Got into the taxi, he said Badmington road, I was still giggling about the timing.

I was spaced out, the very reason I took the frigging taxi init, otherwise I could of walked home. I got into a good conversation with the driver; and lost into the feeling of my mother's womb.

Then I looked around and I said, "Hey bro, where are we?" He goes da de da di da dyuts de da.

I went fine and went back into myself, where I always wish I am sucking me thumb, but I always don't. Then I went, "I don't know this area man?"

He was in a different world, a look of determination in his face with reflections of the wind and rain splattering across the wind screen. I was getting paranoid, with my primeaval feelings coming out to make things harder. Well long way from home as the only thought, I got in me feeble mind.

Then he pulls into this street and says, "What's your number?". I look around and goes, " Where the fuck are we?" "Badmington Road, ....." I said "Badmington road? Where?........"

"Downend".

Me getting a bit pissed off by now; but feeling sorry for the driver, "I live round the corner from Fishponds, near M32. St Agnes. And now I am in Downend, where was I?"

"Oh Allah?".

Cool at least I got a muslim who will not cut me into bits, as me black-arse will curse him and he knows. So very friendly he drove me back to my home, in St Agnes. Charge £ 8. But I had only £ 7 in the pocket. Agreed with a hand shake.

Completely forgotton about this episode in life next day; my back is going into trantrums, decided to get a delivery from the HotWok place in Bristol. I bin Customer of this establishment for a while. But when I phoned; it was, as if, I was a new customer. They did not have the details, name, postal address; and I felt very hard done by. You know what I mean. It is nice to be known sometimes.

So all done and told to wait, with sufficient money for payment, and it would take 30 to 45 minutes. Watched footie on the box with rude expectations, tummy grumbling without a break by now.

After about half hour or so I got a call from the delivery man. "What number are you?".

"34".

"I am in front of 34."

"I can't see you."

Me realising the mistake. "Are you? In Downend." You know the res......



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