young lady in the dusky plum sweater and green chiffon
dress trembled as she stood before the grand Georgian
entrance of her new abode. Daddy would be so proud
of her finding a flat so quickly in her first year
at Edinburgh University. She had landed in that ever
so ever so happening quarter of the metropolis - Leith.
course, Scotland was terribly exciting, so much more
rustic than Gloucester, and she was itching to be
acquainted with the new neighbours ensconced in the
block of flats before her eyes. She imagined the hive
of creativity buzzing within those walls as Edinbohemians
beavered away at innovative artistic projects in their
studios carefully littered with exotic etchings and
sculptures, or hatching thrilling revolutionary programmes
of social upheaval, while she fumbled with her keys.
old man in a Stetson and dirty brown chaps moseyed
down the stairs of the close towards the entrance
door, graciously holding it open for her. She eyed
the old fellow up and down, noting that what she assumed
to be fringes on his faux-leather jacket were actually
strips of slashed material hanging loosely from his
thank you,' she said, holding out a welcoming hand.
'I'm Seraphema Fox-Mangler. I'm moving in to flat
old man began to thrust a withered hand towards her,
then flipped his fingers to form a pointing gun.
My name's Clint. Clint MacMurdo. Got any vodka? Shoot!'
made a pcheeew! noise, circled Seraphama three times
and, finally accepting there wasn't a sniff of Smirnoff
to be had about this slender vision in cashmere, headed
out into the wild untamed plains of Great Junction
quaint,' thought Seraphema entering the stairway,
absentmindedly picking at the flaking paint scabs
on the wall. From behind the door of flat GF2 she
could hear a distinct combination of scuttling and
slurping. Intrigued, but not overly keen to investigate
further, she proceeded to climb the stairs, listening
attentively for any other revealing noises.
passing flat 2F1, a young couple soaked in Burberry
and Kappa exploded from the doorway grasping a buggy
containing a small bleating object swathed in sports
it, Shadney!' cautioned the female of the group, her
scarlet-streaked ponytail swatting the resident stairway
midges as she yelped.
male companion, wiping his beloved's spittle from
the single thick eyebrow languishing menacingly across
his forehead tickled by the gelled rats' tails hanging
from his hairline, echoed her parental sentiments,
cautiously proffered a hand. 'Hi!' she said, 'My name's…'
couple brushed past her without so much as a sneer
of recognition and thumped down the stairs, dragging
the buggy behind them. The child inside (for so Seraphema
assumed it to be - either that or the arse of a turkey)
squawked at every bump, its head (for so Seraphema
assumed it to be - either that or the parson's nose)
rebounding rhythmically with every squawk.
I just know I'm going to love it here,' thought Seraphema,
as she reached the top landing, observing the Mind
Your Head notice above the door of her neighbour's