There was something really poetic about it. Just lying there on the dirty London pavement, giving just a tiny hint of what the full picture is. It sent my mind reeling about things fitting together, missing pieces...all sorts of wonderful and slightly magical things passing through my mind at the usual warp speed....then I spotted another piece....and another....the magic was starting to falter.....but it reminded me of a story...........not long after moving to London I ended up living in a flat with a slightly strange girl (who shall remain nameless) in Brixton (the same road David Bowie once lived on apparently). Every morning as I stumbled out to greet the world in my half put together, half still mashed state, I would always (nearly always) find a shoe on the doorstep. It became a game to me, see if it was there every morning and see if I could ever make up a pair (I didn't actually keep any of the shoes or touch them, I didn't know where they had been ok). Anyway, time went on and the shoes kept appearing but never did I make up a pair, but my curiosity didn't falter.
I skipped home one day to find said girl in the flat looking pretty shaken and crying. It appeared that she had been renting the property from some guy that had been 'looking after it for a friend'. Said friend had just broken out of prison and was heading back towards his flat totally unaware that his friend had been making a bit of dollar on the side and totally unaware of the two young girls camping out in his living room. Hmmm interesting......someone in prison for god knows what whose been locked away for some time.........you'd leave right? Wrong. In my wonderful wisdom I decided that we had a right to be there, that the guy would have to break down two doors to get to us and that he would be fighting up a stair case and we had a phone and four strong (ish) legs to kick him back down and call the police. We waited.......I got beer....she cried.....we waited some more.....the adrenaline died and I went to bed. The next day I came home from work a little more timidly than normal (just in case) and found said girl packing her belongings into her parents car saying she was leaving and I had to as well - at that very minute.........ok then nowhere to live, no way of moving things, London and spare rooms don't happen very often. What to do. But I had remembered that someone I had made friends with a few weeks before moving had once said if I was stuck to give him a call. I did. He wasn't just ok for me to stay but he had a spare room that I could have rent free. And there ended that little adventure and onwards into another........yes, another story, another time.........but I will say - years later - I was recounting said shoe issue to someone at work and got told that a shoe left on a doorstep was a gang sign that you were going to be killed. I guess the guy in prison wasn't a popular man.