Chapter 7 – The magic garden and Pete
For Danny venturing into the garden was like a trip without the acid. In future times he would become used to encountering numerous strange characters in pairs or singly who obviously felt the same, though they augmented the visit with the aid of additional chemistry.
Mr Rose might have been in his eighties but he had created a psychedelic jungle of the first order. Somehow he had combined the most peculiar set of incongruous objects and with the use of hanging vines and garish paint had contrived to combine them into a mind-expanding fairyland. There were fairground swing boats, plastic ornaments, seats, fountains, concrete sculptures, plastic flowers and overhanging shelters, all lit by enough light bulbs to keep Blackpool going for a season or two. At night the effect was simply amazing.
The effect when anyone first saw it was mesmerising.
Danny sat and looked at the multi-coloured universe of a garden with eyes as big as jelly-bean jars. It knocked him out of the ground.
‘Not bad is it?’ A voice said from within the dazzling lights.
‘It’s fucking incredible,’ Danny replied in a voice steeped in awe, without taking his eyes off the fairyland he was surrounded with.
‘I’m Pete,’ the silhouetted figure said, stepping out of the brightness and taking a seat next to him. Danny noted that the figure was a young man with long, shaggy black hair with long fringe hanging over his eyes, a big droopy moustache, a week’s dark stubble and an incongruous ankle-length grey RAF greatcoat. Pete grinned and pulled a ready-rolled spliff out of his shirt pocket and lit it. ‘I live in the bottom flat.’
‘I’m Danny,’ he said. ‘I’ve moved into the top flat.’
Pete nodded.
Together they sat in the brightness of the magic garden in silence, passed the jay between them like some holy sacrament, and stared at colours around them.
It was a momentous first meeting.
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Enjoyed that – how it would be to have a garden like that now, all the bloody neighbours would complain, you can’t do anything now in your own garden. I go out into my back garden and I have a neighbour who gets her ladder out puts it up against my fence climbs and expects me to talk to her – have to make an excuse to escape. Hard to find PEACE these bloody days. Why can’t you be left alone, I am a Loner and like being so.
Glad you enjoyed it. I just finished the book late last night. I’m rewriting Sorting The Future right now. Then I’ll do the rewrite of Danny’s Story – or 301 Green Lanes.
Peace is good – company is good too. Both at the right time.
No not this company, I am not into women’s vicious spiteful gossip, never have been. Like my own company far too much.
Sounds like she is someone not worth conversing with.
You got that right, I can never go out in the garden back or front but she does not come out, now not meaning to be rude I just totally ignore her. I want to be ALONE.
I want to be alone – Jackson C Frank – touch the seeds that I have sown.
Good idea. Drives my Sons mad, put my music on Sammy Davis/Dusty/Jackson/Sacha Distel and my Rod. Helps me iron, clean and cook the bloody dinner – any wonder it is always late. Thank you for your kind words in email, have taken note. Went to bed earlier 4.35 at least not 5am. Fantastic Full Moon pointing straight at this house, telling me something?
Don’t iron, clean and cook at the same time. You’ll do yourself an injury.
Less than 10mins ago I was hoovering the kitchen, Living room and Dining room and then the bottom half of the stairs, can’t get the dyson hose to go round the corner for the rest, so dyson up there for that, sorry but it will have to wait. I have more energy of an evening than a morning. Please don’t change the title of the book, have I said that before?
Yep – you like the title!
Collecting quite a few characters, aren’t we!
More to come. I finished the first draft late last night. Now rewriting Sorting the Future.