The Moon and the Tramp

Listening to my ipod as I jogged around south Leeds today in search of two mystery shop visits, I began to wonder if any of the scenes described in songs actually come true.

I bet loads of people have purposefully slipped on blue suede shoes before they jet down into west Tennessee just so they can walk through Memphis with a grin on their face. No doubt thousands of people have hailed a waiting cab in San Francisco, but made sure it was past Pier 39. And I know for a fact someone, somewhere in the world, will have danced in the dark just to make a bloody point.

Last night I had left my bag in the newspaper office, and so set out without a bag on my bag. Pockets were full, so I had to hold my wallet as I cantered on down to my shops via the uni. Wearing a fairly gubby hoody, tramp gloves (the one’s without fingers) and still visibly feeling the influences of the previous night, I must have looked like a desperate crack addict running off with someone else’s wallet.

As I passed the train station in the centre of Leeds, a group of lads walked by me. They looked about my age, and were probably uni students of a kind. As I passed, I heard a brief glimpse of conversation – as you do – which went as follows:

“So what are we doing later?”
“We may as well go and see New Moon. It’s meant to be better than the first.”
“Hmm… yeah I agree.”

Now, I haven’t watched any of the vampire films that are being released seemingly every 14 seconds at the moment, but I’m fairly sure New bloody Moon is not exactly a film seven university lads – who all looked like they play ‘rugger’ – should be going to see. But maybe that’s just me.

Not much really happened today apart from this. I ran past a car that had its number plate stuck on to the bonnet with plasters. I also noted the sick that was present sprawled all over a wheely bin in my last blog was still there – frozen. That was it really.