Bustling along St James’ Street, on a mission:
“I want something’s flesh!” to quote Withnail.
I must listen to my body, it wants juicy rib eye!
Lived in Brighton a long time, yet I still haven’t
managed to fully subscribe to the Lentil Brigade.
Striking, young man, his hair in braid, thrusts his
postcard towards my person, made me gasp!
He apologises profusely in fabulous French rasp.
“No problem,” I reply – secretly tickled that I,
a woman of a certain age, still get offered
promos for raves. I pause outside Morrisons
to inspect card: an abstract image of a church yard …
‘God is a DJ’ … I get it … or maybe not … nope …
it’s not a reference to my favourite club classic:
it’s an invite to attend local church service …
Do I look like I need saving? I wonder
What might have betrayed me.