Get lost

Anonymous

Donning stripy knee length socks, three quarter length trousers, turquoise high heels, a purple vest top, no bra, despite being well endowed, and yellow sunnies, I thought I looked the bees an ees. I was 27 wearing the get up of a 17 year old in the early noughties. Swanning around like I owned the joint, enjoying the attention that my getup attracted, thinking Id got it sussed. Hackney, with its murder mile, its reputation preceding it RIT LARGE, provides the background to my day. Its sirens, litter, and boisterous community provide the glamour. The state Im in, Im right at home.

In reality, I was far from home. My place these days doesnt resemble the foliage of Glasgows Westend where I grew up. Yes, the two places share architectural history, canals, pubs and clubs, but thats where the similarities end. Im exotic now.

The suns high and theres a spring in my step. Im feeling sensual and alert. I recently bought my first flat but still dont have a washing machine plumbed in so decide to go to my old flat to use theirs. I dont bother to phone to ask. As I walk up the road, Im gaining speed, walking quicker than normal, burning calories, losing inches off my already gaunt wee frame. ... (continues)