The strangeness of a funny old night

Funny old night tonight; one of contrasts, as is so often the case with life here. After an evening spent hanging out with young people from a variety of backgrounds I was driving some of them home. We headed out of town in the dark and the rain. One stop was for those who live on a rubbish dump. I’ve dropped people home here several times before but tonight I was really struck by the strangeness of what I was doing.

Next stop was the gas station, to fill up the battered old Toyota van. The forecourt was bright and modern, not exactly like the ones in England but a lot like the fancy new ones you see on the Autoroutes in France. Except someone comes to pump your fuel. My friend jumped out to tell the attendant how much we wanted, all the while continuing a conversation on his mobile phone! Meanwhile the Scissor Sisters blasted over the forecourt speakers informing us that they ‘don't feel like dancing!’

It was at this point I decided I had to write about this. Not because I have a point I’m driving at. I just thought you might appreciate a glimpse into the experiences that shape the thoughts that float round my mind. I could wear blinkers but I don’t think that’s appropriate. However, seeing things leads to questions and some questions have a habit of nagging for answers.


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