One night, we were messing about on Belly fields,
my friend Mark and me. We were going up and down this hill
as we were in electric wheelchairs. This was because, surprise,
surprise, we were bored. We were really enjoying ourselves
just going up the hill and coming back down on two front wheels.
(daring or what, Eddie Kidd eat your heart out) We had been
for a ride before that, but to nowhere in particular. It was
dark and way past our bedtime. Suddenly we saw this man standing
on the bridge. He was an old man. He decided to come down,
so Mark and I thought we had better move on. Not that we were
frightened you understand. We decide to go on the makeshift
foot path. As we went along we noticed that this man was beginning
to follow us. So we put our foot down, and turned the speed
up. He was still coming along behind us, there was nobody
about. I got a little bit stuck (didn't that happen in another
story to me.) Mark went past me, and I got going again. I
began to shout, "Mark, Mark, don't leave me, don't leave
me." (good piece of drama, don't you think) I looked
behind me again, and the old man was getting nearer. I thought
he was drunk as he was staggering about all over the place.
With that my wheelchair went crash, boom, wallop. I went aargh,
and thought, "what am I going to do now?" "Mark,
Mark, come back, come back," I yelled. But he wouldn't.
I thought, "you silly sausage, fancy leaving me on my
own." Okay, Okay I shall tell the truth, I thought, "you
F****** Bastard, fancy leaving me in the lurch."
I looked behind me, he was getting nearer and nearer. I was
trying to get out of the hole I was stuck in. I finally got
out. (phew) Mark was quite far ahead by now. (helpful eh)
We had got away from the footpath by now, and were in a close
with houses around, but just our luck it was a dead end. I
blamed Mark for this of course. The man was still following
us. With that, a man came out of one of the houses. "Are
you okay? " he asked. Mark said, "can you wait there,
because that man is following us?" Suddenly the old man
piped up with, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to
frighten you, I only wanted to talk to you." We realised
at this point that he was very drunk. We also discovered,
through talking to him that he was very lonely. I've got to
admit I felt sorry for him. (yes me) He said that nobody ever
went to see him, and he just wanted to talk to us. He asked
Mark and I if we would go to his house one day. But we never
did. I often wondered what happened to him.
This Story is in memory of Mark Williamson. Died 1994
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