A two-worded cry rang out, but I was absorbed in my thoughts this morning as I trudged down Mary Street on my way into town.
It almost seemed as though someone was hailing me, but I don't know anyone anywhere, never mind in Mary Street, so I presumed there was someone out of view to my left or just behind me, and I continued to plod along. Then the cry was repeated, and this time, after a pause, I swivelled my torso slowly to look in the direction from which the voice seemed to arrive. Sure enough, there was a young man or, more properly, a boy, standing at the top of some steps on the other side of the street, and he seemed to be looking directly at me. However, since I felt sure I didn't know him and could discern no reason why he should call out to me, of all people, I returned to my long downhill walk without word or gesture.
It wasn't until I was just past the Eagle bar, which used to be called "Snackers" and is a very small pub indeed, that that double monosyllabic utterance condensed, in my dull mind, into a single intelligible idea, and I simultaneously realised that the words were indeed addressed to me and I been nothing short of churlish in my failure to respond.
I suppose I could argue that the young fellow was being cheeky, but I actually felt quite flattered and I would have gladly stuck out a thumb if my mental processing powers had been up to the task in the time alotted.
Doh.
"Nice hat"!
It almost seemed as though someone was hailing me, but I don't know anyone anywhere, never mind in Mary Street, so I presumed there was someone out of view to my left or just behind me, and I continued to plod along. Then the cry was repeated, and this time, after a pause, I swivelled my torso slowly to look in the direction from which the voice seemed to arrive. Sure enough, there was a young man or, more properly, a boy, standing at the top of some steps on the other side of the street, and he seemed to be looking directly at me. However, since I felt sure I didn't know him and could discern no reason why he should call out to me, of all people, I returned to my long downhill walk without word or gesture.
It wasn't until I was just past the Eagle bar, which used to be called "Snackers" and is a very small pub indeed, that that double monosyllabic utterance condensed, in my dull mind, into a single intelligible idea, and I simultaneously realised that the words were indeed addressed to me and I been nothing short of churlish in my failure to respond.
I suppose I could argue that the young fellow was being cheeky, but I actually felt quite flattered and I would have gladly stuck out a thumb if my mental processing powers had been up to the task in the time alotted.
Doh.
"Nice hat"!
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