Leggings – two stories and a moment of light.

Leggings – two stories and a moment of light.



Sometimes the Ninnies who tell the stories to me and at me – during moments o f lucidity – in between their crimes – are extremely odd.


Some blame it on old priests who lost their faith entirely due to their trading on the soul market. On their aptitude to zone in on people in this weird way. Others cite the 'mind readers' as the Spanish seaside traders who after generations of loss of job in the inquisition have found their way to the UK.


Which is right cannot be yet said, or perhaps there is yet another answer. I wouldn't be surprised.


So during on evening they catch me thinking about the old mill in Eleanor Road, which Grandfather and I didn't live in, it was in use as a work place for many years. At the back of the mill there is a lovely light filled room. I once tried to suggest that it could be used as a flat... to my Grandfather's amusement.


He told me then, “It's the floodplain for the water under the mill,” he said, “Don't be so silly, can't you see the holes that will relieve the pressure below?”

I was too young to answer correctly, it was a lovely afternoon and the tiled room was full of light.


The Ninnies tell me that the mill is lived in by some man. I don't know if they mean now or sometime that they remember. It's a group thing. “He blocked all the holes, couldn't understand the need for them. It's not as if its a swimming pool,” he told them at the time, “So I got it all concreted!”


I could imagine my Grandfather's expression. He was so proud of his internal flood plain. His safety measure which would still be able to provide clean water even in dire times. I hope this first story isn't true.




They keep talking about the dead rising at the end of the world, and that they are now among the street people. There are more out there now than usual. Or perhaps they have all come into the center of Norwich. I saw an very elderly lady stop by one of them this morning and hand him a hot drink. Here there is a feeling that we are all on earth together.


Later I came from work on a bus and found myself in the spring sunshine, reciting a verse from the Bible...

it goes...


  In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

After which I went quite wrong, yet had the meaning right, and felt one with God in that the earth was good.

In this moment of epiphany there was only happiness. No matter what ails us or threatens us here on Earth,

we can take comfort in the fact that when it was made, it was good!


If you don't know the bible I invite you to read Genesis for yourselves... v1 – v4 it is also on line.


So now we get to the second story which is all about the dead rising up, or at least people being put under the ground rising up towards us. It's ghouly. I don't enjoy horror films at all.


So I go to do my washing in the laundry and floor kind of moves, not once .. twice. I look down at my feet. At the tiles. There are no cracks or marks of stress. I tell myself it isn't happening. Then voices come up. Women's voices asking to be let out! I say there is no way out here, you must go on to the mill. Even if no one is in there – you'll be at least out, and in dryness.


The Ninnies break in from their radio show, they've been quacking again. “It's a test,” they chortle at me remorselessly, “What are you going to do?”


I finish my washing and go, I'm trying to ignore them. I'm worried, all this volcano activity, is that also here?

Is the water building up underneath the laundry as it cannot get out into the flood plain room? Would that be enough for me to feel a sickening movement underneath the building...?


I used to believe that we were on top of King Henry's Castle here - although perhaps that isn't true.