David boreanez had a shop near our home in the local high street: its name was ‘Anne Lucky a Rez’. When asked by someone why it was called that, his response “because that’s my name!”
We were walking round an old car park, a multi-storey that was fairly empty and we were near the top. We needed to get down so went into a lift where two black boys met us going down. There were two lifts but this was the only one working, however there was a feeling of being scared of sharing the lift with two youths who we didn’t know, yet there were no stairs to take instead!
Outside, we were walking along reminiscing about how we used to walk to Nans from the building on the left. We appeared to be walking through a large estate of high residential flats that were of old Mediterranean, Turkish style apartment buildings which differ from those we can see now.
Everything is mixed, the memories jump: We are now walking in another car park but this one is an underground version, it’s cool (cold) and at the end is an entrance to the local supermarket. When we walk inside we walk straight to the information/returns desk which also doubles as the alcohol and tobacco kiosk, however it’s larger than most seen in a supermarket.
We are still with the two boys we met in the lift, we’re now friends: not since meeting, we have always been friends! We are trying to get a plug for a light but when we ask at the desk, they tell us it’s still pending delivery and out of stock, however, we actually went in to get batteries. One of the boys is talking to a black girl – they know each other, they used to work together and they go off to catch up and also see another person they both know who still works there. The other boy hangs over the counter; he’s not sure what to do, apprehensive. He asks if he should sit there. I tell him “unless you’re gonna snort your arse off, I’d sit there!”
To be continued…