Tuesday, October 31, 2006
In The Autumn, My Doorstep Becomes A Springy Mat Of Red Elastic
This morning, on stepping oustide my front door, I was catapulted into the earth's atmosphere. In the moments which followed, I saw various kinds of flotsam and jetsam - discarded rayguns, wrappers from astronaut ice cream, a Hillman Imp being driven by Laika, the space dog - before performing a quarter-front somersault with two-and-a-half twists, and landing perfectly on the cushioned soles of my Polyveldts. (I learned this move - known as a "Ball Out: Randy" - during the summer of 1971, when I worked the trampolines in the Lodge Grounds, North Berwick).
On landing, I inspected the step and discovered the cause of this "trampoline" effect. In recent months, and for reasons that remain obscure, the postie has been leaving elastic offerings on my front step. These come in the form of red rubber bands. There are now hundreds of them, and over time, with the soft caressing of the autumn wind, they have tangled together, into a mat of red elastic tumbleweed. Ordinarily, this would be untidy, but not dangerous. However, the addition of the everlasting sole of the Polyveldt shoe had a dramatic effect, transforming this gentle, if lithe, senior citizen into Spring-Heeled Jack.
The odd thing is, I never receive any letters. No cards, or letters from the lost or the loved, no bills, no credit card offers or complimentary charity Biros.