I’m at a service station on the M5, there is a woman sat outside on the kerbside.
She is holding a cardboard sign in front of her shawl-covered knees. The sign reads M50-Cardiff.
Multiple cars and lorries pass her by, likewise motorbikes and camper vans, each without a glance in her direction.
There is a long queue at Costa Coffee, yet the logjams at the alternative vendors are equally elongated, hence, I have settled for Costa, I rather enjoy their decaffeinated coffee and it is getting late.
Im sat consuming a coffee and a little piece of chocolate in a busy deli-eatery. The chocolate I am consuming is an easter egg reduced to half-price by a shop who’s marketing strategy failed to maximise revenue from the crucifixion.
There is a young boy, no older than 6 years of age sat at a table close to where I am located. He is sat with his father and is striving to engage him in child like activity, in a historical game derived from the nursery rhyme ‘pat-a-cake’. He is persistently wrestling with the clasped hands of his father trying to pry them apart for play.
The suns almost set, and the days almost over, I’m sat outside its almost silent and the cat is patiently waiting to be fed. . .
Its quaint how the cat is fully attentive when feeding time comes around meowing as if it was starving widening it’s eyes as if some unseen hands were squeezing it’s intestine making its eyes protrude!. . .very strange!