SPLINK!

The Twenty-Fourth of August Two Thousand and Eleven. Wednesday.

I sometimes (who am I kidding? It's all the time!) worry that I'm missing the point of life. That there is some higher meaning to existence that eludes me and that if I had even an inkling of what that meaning was my life would be a lot more satisfying and I'd be a lot happier.

With this in mind there are two ways the following story could be interpreted. Either the person concerned has found there place in the world and is thus content or they are a complete and utter nutjob. Far be it from me to cast nasturtiums I'll let you decide.

There is this chap, spectacles and beard, hat and cagoule, who has in the past spent large tracts of time hanging around the railway station. He has a propensity for handing out train information, unbidden, to anybody on the concourse who looks troubled or confused. This information isn't always accurate, mind. Haven't seen him around the station much recently, but it appears he has moved his manor elsewhere...

On my way to and from work I cross over a junction between the local Comet store and the Valley Bridge. That crossing is split into two by a small island in the middle of the road where the traffic light and a pedestrian crossing for each half of the road is situated. It is here that the chap from the station has made his new home.

Not permanently, I assume, but he is seen there regularly. As he was on Saturday when I was met after work by my two sons and we made our way back to my flat. No1 son and I were well into our usual nonsensical conversation when we approached the crossing and I noticed him without paying him much attention. As we  waited for the lights we continued to chat and as a result failed to see the exact moment when the 'green man' appeared.

It was then that the islander leaned slightly forward and pointed to the 'green man' on his side, clearly put out that we had not leapt into action. Here is a photographic re-enactment of that moment:

When I noticed him doing this I deliberately waited another five seconds just to show that we needn't be dictated to by the machines. I don't know if that is how he interpreted it or whether he thought I was just trying to piss him off, but regardless we crossed before the light turned back to red and continued on our way. As we crossed the bridge, No1 son and I reflected on the oddness of this moment and I have to confess that several times over the weekend we drew amusement from mimicking the very precise, yet casual way this bloke pointed to the 'green man'.

I had thought perhaps this was a one-off incident, but when I told this tale to one of my colleagues, the estimable Madame Z, she informed me that she had encountered him in the same location only on that occasion he had held his hand up to stop her, as if to emphasise the message of the 'red man'. As I know there is a dearth of news about the inhabitants of traffic islands in the blogosphere (sorry, I won't use that word again. Promise) you can be sure that any updates to his later activities well be featured here as and when they occur.

By the way, here's the road safety film referred to in the title of today's entry:

More soonliest.