SW at home

Yesterday I went on a little journey on my own. These are my favourite journeys, where you’re lost in your own subconscious as the world flashes past, with no interruptions from friends or acquaintances, no pre-requisites of conversation or small talk. Free.

I hopped whimsically onto the 65M bus to Charminar from my new ‘hood Mehdipatnam in the late afternoon. We travelled along the treacherously bumpy roads in the heart of the city, potholes often lifting us occupants a foot in the air. As these buses run along their merry way people jump on and off without a care, or stop. The ticket attendant and I had a lovely conversation which pretty much echoes many lovely conversations I have with locals here: “Hallo, May I know your name sir, do you like Hyderabad, May I know your age, You are not married?” et cet era. Then lots of people got on around Abid’s Circle and he had to go ticket people so I floated off into the deep clouds and crammed roads again.

At some point we crossed the River Musi which divides the old city and the new, ish. It’s not much of a river. The palm trees are nice. FANTOOSH greeted me on a huge billboard on the opposite bank. I think it’s a clothes retailer but I know if I still had my little book of potential band names it would shoot to No. 1.

After ten minutes of more tight streets and bazaars and autos and bikes and slightly different architecture and many more mosques my ticket attendant friend taps me on the shoulder and points: “Charminar!” He was pointing through the back window and the great mosque, which I had somehow failed to see, was getting further and further away. “You get off now!” The bus was still moving quite fast but another guy just dropped off nonchalantly to the street below so I decided to be cool and Indian and follow him off the moving bus. Suffice to say I ended up on the concrete grazed up on my rectum like the uncool British person that I am. This seriously jeopardized my theory that if one jumped off an aeroplane just before it crashed into the sea then that someone would safely splash in without a worry. Fuck. (I think too much in planes).

A time to be thankful to be alone, bar the hundreds of onlookers. As I stumbled to my feet it was worth it, for the Charminar lay ahead, illuminated by lighting against the now blackened sky.

We beat Sheffield Wednesday 4-1 (h). Iwelumo was shit at Brighton. WTF.