Starfish

A reporter from Radio Watermouth turned up at the house today with Morris and asked the most contrived and offensive questions: to Ben, “I see the soap and tissues on your bed, so obviously you wash . . . what sort of lifestyle do you lead? . . . what is it like living in a squat?” and so on, through half-a-dozen clichéd topics.

I avoided any contact with him or his questions. Ian and Gav appeared half way through the ‘interview’ and the latter answered a few questions while Ian rushed to and fro, drunkenly giggling at the inane line of questioning and revealing an inebriated openness I’d never noticed before.

Then he and Gav and Alex locked themselves in Gav’s room for drugs and I went out for another walk, to second hand bookshops and the sea front, the sea flat calm, the tide out, a couple of dead starfish stranded in the sand. I was suddenly reminded of seaside holidays with Mum and Dad, lifetimes away, and this memory in the grey of dusk made me feel a little sad.