I went to Tesco’s after work to get milk in case Fr. Tony wants it for his coffee or tea. On the way home I heard the f word being screamed and then lots of threats. I must confess that in this upscale neighborhood the sounds seemed out of place. Except—it’s what I hear on Friday and Saturday nights, very late. Right behind my flat is a beautiful wooden fence and behind that is a walkway leading to Tesco, a store that’s open all night. So I hear the f word a lot on weekend nights. This time it was early though—around 6 PM. Four teenage boys were against one other boy. The screams were pretty even, BUT the lone guy had a board and was hitting one guy in the group. Even though he was the aggressor at that moment, it was obvious he had been bullied by the others. He was sobbing and yelling, “I told you to leave me alone.” Okay, he wasn’t saying it that nicely, but you get the gist. And he finally just took off running and sobbing the whole time. I came upon the group of four and noticed the back of one guy’s skull was bleeding badly. I spoke to him and said I was going to call an ambulance, but he convinced me he lived around the corner and was going home. I almost called the cops, but what was I going to say—they were cussing? One guy was bleeding?
One thing I did do though. I asked them to quit screaming the f word. Told them I was a Grandma. And they quit. That was pretty cool.
I went home and finished cleaning up my house. Fr. Tony came over about 8:15 and we had a really nice conversation. He’s a nice guy. Asked me to write an article for the parish magazine. So I’m going to do that I guess. Should be fun.
Tomorrow I’m going to Manchester via the Metrorail for the first time.
posted by Jerilyn Dufresne, author @ 16:20
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