Kenneth
Originally published in 2014.
Local people talk to me. No, really: they just walk right up to me in public places and say things like ‘Hi! You’re that writer bloke?’ Sometimes, they say excellent and memorable things like ‘Are you Bloke Called Dave Dave?’. I love this, because local people ROCK…
…but this time I’m in big trouble.
‘David! You DAVID!’
She’s in her early fifties, built like Tarzan’s favourite arm (when Jane was away) and has a pair of glasses covering two eyes that just can’t seem to agree where they want to look.
To make matters worse, she’s heading on a collision course for me, shouting my name and breaking into a run. I quickly decide that if she face-plants onto the concrete, I will actually turn and make off up the street like a rogue missile.
I’m walking my dog, for crying out loud: it’s the one piece of comforting solitude I have.
Nevertheless, here she comes….and it’s too late to do anything about it.
I smile.
She smiles.
I wait, partly because I can’t think of anything to say but mostly because she’s so out of breath that I’m actually waiting for her to produce some sort of inhaler. She doesn’t.
‘My daughter reads your computer adverts.’
‘My blog?’
‘Your adverts about people in Ramsgate. She told me to come over here and speak to you.’
I look up and down the road, but I can’t see anyone else. My first thought is that she’s one of those lovely, special ladies who you sometimes meet (well, no: actually, my first thought was ‘I wonder if the daughter is hot’ - but I am a man, so please cut me some slack and put that down to my autopilot).
‘Ah….look at your lovely doggy.’
I glance back at her, and she’s stroking the dog and making noises. I can’t tell if the noises are intended or completely involuntary.
I start to pull Jake back, politely nodding and smiling but beginning to withdraw myself from the conversation.
‘Thanks for reading the blog!’ I say, giving her a thumbs up. ‘Hope you enjoy it!’
‘WAIT.’
Shit: I knew something was coming.
‘Yes?’
‘Can you help me out? I’ve got a friend who’s spreading rumours about me.’
I swallow a few times, take a deep breath.
‘Look, I don’t really write about rumours and stuff-‘
‘NASTY LIES!’ she clarifies, her lips curling up as if she thinks I’ve started them. ‘It’s Kenneth who started it. He’s telling the whole family I’ve done things, and the people, and now I’m nothing to any of them. Ramsgate people! They’re coming up to me in the street, saying horrible things, telling me I’m no good because Kenneth has got to them all first! You see how upset I am?’
I sure can: she’s practically spitting out the words.
Right, I say to myself, it’s time to think on my feet: we’re in a part of Ramsgate very close to where I live, and I’m obviously going to bump into this woman again. There’s no way I’m writing anything for her, so all I can do is take an aggressive stance or run.
‘Now listen to me,’ I say, standing slightly on tiptoe so that I’m looming a bit. ‘You tell Kenneth that if he doesn’t stop spreading nasty lies about you, then I’m going to call him out on Bloke Called Dave and tell the people of Ramsgate the truth. They deserve to know. Am I right?’
She smiles: I count nine missing teeth.
‘I’ll go and tell him now… to his face! TO HIS FACE!’ She literally screams the last bit, attracting the attention of two people at a bus stop, and runs away.
I spend a few moments calming myself down before I continue with my dog walk.
Jake and I head along Ramsgate seafront, hit the beach, walk up the steps at the gap and start the long journey back through the park. I’m just starting to really enjoy myself when the shout makes me jump sideways.
Once again, it’s too late by the time I see her.
‘David! You DAVID!’
Oh, for f*ck’s sake. Am I actually being followed now?
She’s on me in seconds.
‘I told him! I told him, and he said he wants to talk to you!’
‘Who?’ I smile, and try to look like I’m not bothered. ‘Kenneth?’
‘Yes! I told him what you said, and he’s SO angry. Wait THERE! WAIT THERE! I’ll get him now. He’s round the corner with me!’
She hares off, and I’m left standing there. Except, now I’m on the verge of actually filling my trousers. There are some real nutjobs in this area, and I’ve no desire to have a fistfight in a park with a bloke I’ve never met. I’ve got two voices in my head: one saying ‘Kenneth? That’s a really old man’s name’ and another saying ‘Run like f*ck!’
I listen to the former, steel myself and tighten my grip on Jake’s lead.
That’s when she comes round the corner.
‘David! YOU DAVID! Tell Kenneth what you just told me.’
I take a step back, and feel my jaw literally drop open.
I find myself eye to eye with a Jack Russell.
A small, bewildered Jack Russell that she’s holding up right in my face.
‘Kenneth,’ I manage to say, pointing a finger at it… and then the situation just overwhelms me. I turn, and run out of the park so fast that Jake is pulled along behind me as if he’s attached to a speedboat.
I haven’t walked my dog for three days now.
If I open the next issue of the Isle of Thanet Gazette to discover that Ramsgate has a secret underground mental facility where the door is left open every night, I will not be surprised… because they’re running wild, out there. The lunatics, the spinners, the eye-rollers, the lip-lickers: they’re everywhere. They’re eating dog food, drinking the Kool-Aid and sitting at the altars of some very strange gods.
Don’t take my word for it: just ask Kenneth. Sure, he’s a spiteful little bastard, but he knows what’s going on.
