Thursday, 18 March 2010

A Sofa, Abandoned in the Fog

When I left work yesterday, I was pleased to discover that a fog had descended. Could this be a sea-fog? Perhaps. I hope it rolled in from across the night-sea.
The fog was relatively thick, all Victorian-London and December-ghosts. I watched it scudding through the halos of streetlight. Listened to the sounds distorted through the white darkness, all clattering footsteps and distant voices. The sounds seemed somehow to define silence more than anything else. Like on a sunny, windy day, you can always hear the sounds of playgrounds in the distance.
As I walked down my street in the ever thickening fog, I was excited to see a two seater sofa that someone had abandoned on the pavement. I had been quite obsessed in getting a sofa for my room over the past few weeks. How would I get it up to my room? I rang Andy, who, after dinner, said he would head over.
I lay on my bed in an agony of waiting. What happened if someone stole my sofa? The Gloomy Bedsit might be transformed by the sofa into a Cosy Bedsit. Where was Andy? What were those noises in the distance?
I thought at first that it was some kind of football chant. Then I thought it was some kind of drunken shenanigans. A bit early, both in the week, and the night, for such shouting I thought.
I lay on my bed with the window open.
The noises grew nearer. I could hear harmonies. Singing. People were singing.
What on earth was going on out there?
I turned off my light and opened the curtain. The fog had gotten considerably thicker, and there, across the road, was a procession of people. It was some kind of hymn they were singing, and the procession was led by a man with a cross. Many of the people following, and singing, seemed to be dressed in priestly raiments.
I was somewhat pleased by this surreal sight, watched them turn into Western Road and fade out of sight and hearing.

And the sofa is in my room now, and I was right, the bedsit has now been transformed, merely by the addition of one sofa, found abandoned in the fog of a quiet Wednesday night.