I saw Jean in the park again this morning.
She's always in the park, what was she up to this time.
Kicking the golden autumn leaves.
Agh yes, that'll be her getting in touch with her inner child. She's been seeing a psychotherapist. Apparently she has attachment issues stemming from her childhood.
What's that supposed to mean.
I don't know her Dad was a total bastard. All I know is that I pay some bald, git sixty quid an hour to stop my wife acting like the last chimp at the zoo.
What's it all about this psychotherapy then.
Don't ask me, but if it works, then I shan't be complaining. She's been a nightmare to live with the last couple of years.
They just talk?
As far as I can gather yer, he talks alot of fancy shit and long words, but I think it's just a way of getting her to talk about her Dad, you know. The big words are all smoke and mirrors that's all.
Wha?
I mean look at the church right - O.K. - biggest lie in the world. I mean by the time you've figured out Father Christmas it's pretty apparent that religion is the same, or basically the same, so why do so many people persist in turning up?
I don't know - you'd better tell me.
Because of the institution.
The what?
The lie, it's backed up by the institution. The cathedrals and the ceremony. The Queen wants to get coronated where does she go - St Paul's and she kneels before God.
And she's a crock of shit too.
Yer, too right, they both work in the same way and they back each other up. You look important then you must be important. This guy's got all his letters and books, so what he says, well it's got weight hasn't it. She talks, he has a think and says something, and she thinks he's fixed her. The trick is it's the first bit that did the helping.
Her talking?
Yer.
Do you remember that guy that used to make those piles of leaves on the way to school.
Yer and we used to kick em all over the place.
He was a nutter wasn't he?
What?
I mean he didn't work for the council did he. He was from that big house on the corner with all the care in the community.
I suppose so, I don't really remember. All I know is that there was this bloke with a broom and he used to make great big piles of leaves, we'd kick em all over the place on the way to school and on the way back the piles would be back, so we'd kick em all over the place again. Yer, that doesn't sound like the council.
You didn't realise.
All I cared about was kicking leaves. I didn't really give a shit about who put them there. Anyway Mum never told us not to.
No - I suppose she figured he liked making the piles.
Leaves must be more therapeutic than we thought.
The changing of the season, life, death, renewal, it's all there.
You keep talking like that I'll have to give you sixty quid an all.
We'll it's your round so you can start there.
