Morden

* A man in his mid 60s sits alone on a bench in Morden Hall Park and feeds pieces of bread to travelling pigeons. The man dressed in a shabby brown suit jacket and trousers, sits in a slouched position. His slightly worn loafers seem to only hold onto his foot by the sole as the wind blows through his receded hair line. As the park empties, the old man looks to the audience and occasionally throws pieces of bread towards unsuspecting pigeons.*

Nice Day for a sit down wouldn't you agree? These pigeons seemed lonely so I thought I'd join them. I don't often eat alone but I suppose I can't avoid it much longer. I guess one thing I do to avoid it, is by coming to eat here. Sometimes I feel as though I'm not alone at all here. Sure no one is eating with me but we all live our lives in the open, it's more so whether or not we want to acknowledge each other's existence. My name is Jacob by the way.

* Jacob reaches besides him and reveals what seems to be a canister which is enshrined by a copy of the Financial Times newspaper; dated 5th December 1977. The lid of the canister is already open as Jacob lifts it to his mouth and drinks the liquid within. * I'm assuming you're feeling uneasy, please don't. Of course it is entirely understandable that one wouldn't naturally listen to an old crow like me badgering on about his life. I must seem ancient to you. I was just like you back then. You know, at times I sit here recollecting on past, drown myself in nostalgia you know? Did you know I've been visiting this park for the past 50 years! I've seen each season pass and go, much like the coming of each and every small blade of grass; I've seen the coming of many different people in this park. Each of them had a story of their own... Sorry. I'm boring you aren't I? It's just that sometimes we all need someone to talk to.

* Pause of Silence *

It is really nice here in the summer. In the rose garden especially. Did you know that I've picked each and every one of those roses at one point in my life? These roses do live long; they're beautiful in every sense of the word. The sheer glory of them is that, if looked after they bloom amazingly, though like everything in life they wither and die accordingly. You could say that they're a reminder that life isn't as wondrous as it may seem at first. There's always some downside, some thorn in the track and some sense of inevitability which will forever lead to demise.

* As Jacob begins to glance towards his palms, his face takes a retrospective gleam as he slowly becomes more comfortable and free with his drinking. *

Look, I know what it's like, you're busy and I'm taking up all your time but, what is time really? You're only busy if you've got somewhere to go or things to do, but what if you didn't? Don't answer that one, what you should ask yourself is whether you're worth your own time see I always understood that. I always left myself a few hours to see the lions before midnight. I had some glorious times there. Would always get an earful when I returned home though, the experiences I've had one wouldn't mind as much. Philosophy would open its bosom to me in there; I had enough time to conjure my existence into small muses. For example, everything I tell you is a lie, but then one wonders if because I've told you that, that means I'm lying about lying? Surely that means I'm telling the truth, but then that would mean I'm lying. Hah! As the laughter prolongs into silence an air of awkwardness omits. These roses they're beautiful you know. Everything about them mesmerises me. They dance in my mind and sleep in my thoughts. As astounding as the female they embraced. They never have a bad thing to say about me. Always there, well as long as they could be. They are one of a kind.

* As the man continues to drink a single pigeon lands at his feet and pulls at a stray piece of string from his trousers. He flicks his leg, forcing the pigeon to fly away. *

Damn, looks like these won't last much longer. I must mention you do look nice today. What are they designer? I wear designer you know? Actually, Armani would garnish my room and Gucci my furniture. Dolce would bring me breakfast in the morning and Chanel of course would lie besides me. Ha ha ha! Really though I have what any reasonable man would presume as a luxurious life. Penthouse apartment, swanky city job. Man I have it all. Don't envy me though; I'm not a modest man.

* As Jacob stared into the distance a small tear peered from his eyes, though not falling creating a sense of distress, instead it was kept restrained. This gave his eyes the glow of instability. As he raised the canister to his lips, he was greeted by its emptiness. He briskly places it back onto the bench and wipes his face as he takes on a more hunched body position. *

I see you fidgeting there, please don't. I do despise fidgeting. My wife would do that. Don't feel threatened though I am a very peaceful man. The most peaceful man I know actually! Not sure my wife ever thought so. Oh right I can't believe I've forgotten to mention her. Noisy beast she was. I'll always love her, till the end of my life in fact. She had a knack for complaining though, whenever she'd be off on one I'd just stare at her lips and let my limbs do the rest. We first met in this park actually. Still can't forget her stunning legs when she rushed to me after I tripped and fell into the ditch over there. It was all uphill from then! We got married in 75, her parents weren't too fond of me though, there's a saying that white colours aren't made to be stained. Luckily for me though after divulging into a few accounts I managed to set myself up a new lease of life.

I can still smell the burning carcass from the stove she'd left on for me one night. She lost track of time left the gas on, good thing I came home in time. After that day we never spoke much to each other though, even though at times she wouldn't stop! Of course I would show her what's what, as one would.

* Jacob begins to seem more restless, his palms begin to intertwine in each other as all the pigeons fly away. *

It's hard to get decent poison now; the government seems to do what they want in terms of prices. You understand me when I say a French whistle is hard to come by. How do they expect people to live? And they expect me to be grateful? People don't seem to understand what it means to be grateful anymore. Did you know I gave half my pay check to her just so she could go out prancing on the corners! I bet that's what she did; I knew that mouth came to other use than to torture me endlessly. Dinner seemed to get more horrible each night. So I got rid of her. Sent her off. She still isn't back from the chippy yet, though I bet after all that screaming they probably kicked her out. She wouldn't stop screaming that night. Never heard the end of it though, dozed right off.

* As a cold breeze pulls in from the west, Jacob begins to shiver. He spits out some loose saliva from his mouth as he becomes jittery. Roses don't last long. Just like us, completely interdependent on support but yet die anyway. There's not much hope or reason once their dead. They leave you just sitting there trying to process in your mind just what exactly has occurred. Life is the bread fed on by human pigeons. They don't care where the bread has come from or what meaning it has. They simply consume and die. The punch line is that you don't even know who you are until you realise your simply just another sap living off life from a park bench. I pity anyone who is alive and envy those who live. Everything I'm telling you is a lie. Have you ever seen a rose blossom at night? It is as beautiful as it is fragile... and it reminds me of my wife.