So Horny (horny, horny, horny)

Horn Truck going to Altoona June 2006, originally uploaded by shiphorns.com.

5a.m. and someone has the horn! No, not me - I was deep in Harry Potterland when the noise came to my attention. I read on but five minutes later the noise was beginning to irritate and so I am up and looking out of the windows but I can’t see where the noise is coming from: nothing to see in the back and only a group of three stragglers in the crescent strolling home from some late-night drinking den.

Well, the two men in front are strolling, bare arms around each other’s t-shirted shoulders. Some way behind is a young woman wearing a man’s nylon hoody (what we used to call a windcheater) and high heels. With the oversized hood pulled-up and the overly-long sleeves covering her hands, all we can see is her bare legs which are tanned deep brown (making a nice change from the mottled appearance one usually sees) but she drags her feet and keeps her distance. She looks like she is being forced to model a cocktail dress designed for the WAGs of the Ku Klux Klan.

Only the shouting between the two groups lets me know they are together.

Man #1: “She’s a liar!”

Man #2: “Jill’s always lying.”

Woman: “mumble, grumble, slurrrr…” Her hood makes her sound like Kenny from South Park, only she is from a Cardiff council estate and so less articulate.

Man #1: (louder) “Oh! so Jill told you! She told you, did she? Well she’s a liar, mate - I told you she’s a liar back there. What about when …slurr…!?”

The proceed slowly and unsteadily along the road and one of the men plays with what looks like a lighter flickering on and off – I rub my eyes to make sure I am not asleep and he isn’t a council dementor with a deluminator. Nope: Chav with a lighter, just like I thought. Ms Barelegs has caught up to the men with a tottering step, step, slide stilettos gratingly on tarmac sort of gait but backs off when Man#1 turns around.

I am distracted from the altercation at that point, as the horn noise gets louder and a car enters the crescent going at a funeral pace. The driver has his hand fixed firmly on the horn and after two laps of horner (worst pun yet!!) without any success, he starts parp-parping the horn but to what ends I can only guess. Is he looking for someone? Is he in need of help? Is it the end of the world and Angel Gabriel now drives an Audi. Or has the revolution started – hold on comrade, I need to touch up my roots! He finally parks and after five more minutes of intermittent honking he goes quiet.

The other three have made little progress – woman and man#1 are arguing face-to-hood and he now throws the lighter/phone into the air and kicks it across the road and stalks back to his grinning mate. Barelegs turns and walks back towards my house, while the two men stand gawking at her, once more comrades-in-arms. The argument continues with little sense although I pick up the latest topic is finding a taxi as they totter off down a side-street.The honking car driver has passed them twice so it has become obvious he is not their taxi.

Now I have two unconnected stories to ponder and when I get back to bed I find Richard has turned out the lights (not at all pointedly, he would say!) so I am also left in the middle of Godric’s Hollow. Oh well, I’ll catch up with Harry and Hermione tomorrow. Will the hoody catch up with her hunks? Will environmental health catch up with the horned one and his noise pollution? Email me with these and other solutions to fathobbit@ntlworld.com