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wardytron

09:37 am - Man, 38, has overblown sense of suavity cruelly punctured, then alarmingly restored.

On my way home from work yesterday I decided to take a small detour to Marble Hill Park, and spend a pleasant quarter of an hour in the sun, watching the village cricket and enjoying one of those small cans of ready-mixed Gordons G&T. On the way I passed St Stephen's Church, where I noticed three or four unhappy looking people sitting outside, quietly smoking. I assumed they must have suffered a recent bereavement, and left them to it.

When I got to the park I sat down on a bench, opened my small can of ready-mixed Gordons G&T, and before I'd had two sips a voice behind me said "Wotcher. Alright if I sit down?" I turned round and saw a man. A very dishevelled man. A man whose hair, clothes and body, were in dire need of a wash. But we Wards are not judgemental types, as you know, so I said, "Of course". "Waiting for dinner?" he asked. "I suppose so", I said, assuming he meant I was passing a few moments before going home for dinner. "Cos they don't start til seven, do they", he said. "Who doesn't?" I said. "The church. You know, St Stephen's Church. Every Thursdee they do a free dinner." Ah, so that's why there were unhappy looking people sitting outside the church. "Oh, I didn't know that", I said, adding "You know Johnny Leyton, who was in The Great Escape, and had a no. 1 hit in August 1961 with the Joe Meek produced single Johnny Remember Me? Well his manager's daughter got married in that church".

He was sensationally unimpressed with this information. So I said I must be getting on, and we went our separate ways. I was, it has to be said, not terribly pleased at his assumption that I was there for a free dinner, but I hold nothing against the man, who - to be fair to him - offered me what I believe is known as a "toke" on the joint he was smoking, which I politely declined.

So off I went, and on my short journey home happened to encounter a man I refer to as The Gay Community of St Margarets. He & I have been on nodding and smiling terms ever since we were both at the station once, both wearing paisley silk scarves. That was several years ago, and since then we've nodded & smiled, and said "Lovely day", and "How are you?" and so forth, and now we're reasonably chatty, albeit with the result that I'm fairly certain that he thinks I am the other member of The Gay Community of St Margarets.

So we chatted away, and then when I got to where I live I took out my keys, said "Have a nice evening", and that was that. Except I noticed my next door neighbours' door was slightly ajar. I live in the garden flat of a converted four storey townhouse; my next door neighbours live in a whole four storey townhouse. The nearest equivalent I can find to it is this, currently on the market for £1,295,000.

At the exact point that I closed my own front door, my next door neighbours slammed theirs shut. The Gay Community of St Margarets must have thought that was me, and now I am convinced that the tramp community in St Margarets think I am a tramp, while the gay community thinks I am a gay millionaire.