The Bipolar Columnist
The Bipolar Columnist
An essential part of my weekly routine is my Saturday morning croissant. Last weekend the ritual led me to re-examine the ethereal glue that holds our universe together.
This being England the couple that own and run the local newsagents are from India; this being Brighton the newsagent sells freshly baked pain-au-chocolate. Every week, after my morning coffee, I stride out through Kemptown village to gather in two croissants and a Guardian. It’s what insufferably smug Brightonians do at the weekend.
The man who bakes the croissant is extremely short – he needs to stand on a box to reach his own till. I like him; he makes me think of good things, immigrants carving an entrepreneurial niche, a nation of shopkeepers. He bakes extremely good pastries, as good as any I’ve tasted in France, better than any I’ve eaten in Italy. As you enter the shop the fresh-baked aroma rises above the expected odour of cornershopiness. It elevates me.
I gather in two croissants and a Guardian. It’s what insufferably smug Brightonians do at the weekend
This ritual is an essential part of my life, it separates week from weekend, it forces me to walk along the seafront. On this particular morning, as I cut back along Marine Parade, what I saw brought to mind a half-forgotten image of beautifully bikinied ladies riding bareback along a beach and joyfully tossing rugby balls to each other – a picture of glistening bliss and youthfulness. The image was from a New Zealand TV advert, the tag line went along the lines of “Girls in bikinis, ponies, rugby, beaches – individually good, better together.” It was an ad for Burger King’s cheesy chicken and bacon burger. The follow-up ad featuring girls, trampolines and a shower was banned.
So what was it that dragged this memory into my frontal lobes? It was a Smart Car, or to be more precise a fat man getting into a Smart Car. To be even more precise, it was 300lb of obesity stuffed inside 1,600lb of well-meaning ugliness, his proudly domed beer-belly rammed up against the front window. Some things are moderately unpleasant on their own but completely unpalatable together.
Thus as I nibbled my pastry I was left to ponder the delicate yin-yang balance of the universe. The diminutive shopkeeper and his patisserie are the moon and stars, a match in heaven; a fat bloke in a Smart Car is a paedophile clown at a kids’ birthday party
Illustrated by Elissa Elwick, www.elissaelwick.co.uk
