MEET…

Meet Roger and Mike. I was in Whitstable this weekend, visiting family. I had some time before we were all due to gather and celebrate one of those ‘big’ birthdays, so I took a wander around Whitstable Harbour. Roger was feeding some gulls; a family of four which included two well fed ‘babies’. He was in the middle of telling me about how this was not the first gull family in this spot, and that after the babies were fully grown, this lot would be ousted in a turf war, when another gent stopped right in front of me, looked into my eyes and said “Bob’s gone. Prostate. Thursday.” I had to tell him that I didn't know who Bob was, but Roger nodded as if he’d been told the tide would be out later. The tidings-bearer moved on, intent perhaps on spreading the news a bit farther, just part of the ebb and flow of life. We’d barely re-struck up our conversation when Mike turned up. ‘Bob’s gone’ said Roger. ‘There’ll only be us left soon.

Meet Lesley. She was busking on Dumbarton High Street, and actually about to pack up and call it a day. I’d first noticed her bright jacket against the teal blue wall behind her and stopped to say hello and ask if I could take her picture. She immediately agreed and better than that, dragged her guitar back on and gave a heartfelt rendition of Big Yellow Taxi. Lesley taught music for years and insisted that anyone could sing if they could learn to hear first. She was the highlight of my day.