Peter Hillsley of Livingston's

When we glanced in at the window, he appeared to be dead.  Then we noticed the gentle rise and fall of his frail chest.

He was lying on a bench at the window, his scraggly bearded face turned away from us.  His arms were placed across his chest like a corpse.   A corpse that had seen better days.  In fact, a corpse would have been better turned out.  His forearms and hands were covered in lacerations and a lunatic attempt had been made to medicate the wounds.

We tapped on the window a couple of times, but he continued to play dead, his toes curled up and pointing skywards.

Fearing perhaps that something serious had befallen him, we rapped louder and called out to him and slowly he turned his face towards us, his glazed eyes battling to focus.  He lay unmoving for a while, just staring at us through the window.  Then he pulled himself upright and staggered to the door to let us in.

"What day is it?", he said in greeting.

"Sunday", we replied in unison.

"Sunday?…… oh that's cool".

He staggered back to his bench and sat down trying to figure out where Sunday had come from.  "It's Sunday……..cool".

Sam said that she hoped he was open for business because we wanted a drink.  He said to help ourselves and give him the money.

He sat hunched up on his bench, like a bundle of dirty laundry, wearing yesterday's clothes and rambling on and on about morphogenesis and battles.  We never did discover where there was any connection between the two or what they meant, but he was happy, he said everything was cool.

I asked if he was on his own today, where was Leigh?

"What day is it?", he asked again, scratching his wild beard.

"It's Sunday today", I reminded him.

"Sunday…then she will be at home probably".

I pointed out the Mercurochrome on his hands and asked if he had been in a fight.  He said that you had to go to war sometimes, but that was cool and he didn't believe in rape.  Sometimes you had to kill, but it was cool and nobody could argue with that.

He had nothing against black people, he said, it's their own business and besides that they were cool and you couldn’t argue with that either.

He took us to the other side of the pub where a wooden bench stood against the wall.  He pulled it away slight and pointed to a brass plaque fixed to the back of it.

"Have a look at that", he said and wandered back to the bar.  On it was inscribed the name Max Brkl and a date.

"Max was cool, lived out back here behind the hills, he was married to Connie, she's black, but that's their own business.  They made stuff and sold it……… cool".

"There's a chameleon lives in that tree, he's cool………..there's Mr Dove sitting on the lower branch.  I don't like Jacaranda trees, they don't belong here".

We sat and looked out of the windows sipping our drinks quietly, just listening to his ramble.  A little gust of wind blew down the alley, bringing with it, a plastic bag and a couple of leaves.

"That's the little ghost", he said, "she's about seven years old.  She follows me everywhere.  There are plenty of ghosts around……..cool".

"Cool", he said again as he nodded his head absentmindedly.

"My Grandfather's a ghost", he said.  "That's what happens to a person who does everything for everybody else.  He was always giving to people and doing for them, never did anything for himself. Never had anything left to give in the end.  I don't want to argue about that.  You can't argue".  He took a swig of his stale beer and nodded again…….."cool".

"I met Liz against after twenty five years, she's cool.  We spoke about morphogenesis.  Sometimes things change and take on a new shape, it happens like that…….cool", and he nodded again and took another sip.

Another customer walked in then and asked if he could get a beer.

"You have to help yourself behind the counter there, and then just give me the money to put in my pocket".

The customer poured himself a beer and handed over his money.  "Cool……thanks", as he put the money in his pocket.  "It’s Sunday…….cool".

We decided to leave then, so handed over our drinking money and said our farewells, leaving him to ponder the meaning of life with his remaining audience.  "Cool", he said as we walked out the door.

We drove home in silence, both deeply immersed in our own thoughts.

We pulled up at the back door and got out of the car.  Sam turned to me with a serious look on her face.  "Are we in a time warp or did that really happen?"

"It happened", I said as I walked into the house with her trailing after me.

I could almost see her grinning face behind me, "…………..cool".

Cally

24/9/2000