I was sitting begging in town yesterday when Foosted Wotsit Head asked me for change. I told him that I was doing my own begging and he should go find a pitch of his own. He went down the street and sat on the opposite side of the road.
I felt bad for him because in a way begging for me is slumming it: I'm well enough kept on the dole.
At about lunch time I had enough for two three litre bottles of cider so I went and asked him if he wanted to go for one, my treat.
We went and sat out the back of Queen Street and he told me that he hasn't seen Wino Jo in ages and that even he's starting to get worried about him.
The last any of us saw of Wino Jo was Christmas and he's been away longer so I think he was just making conversation.
When it got dark we managed to bust into a building and sit in the stairwell. Foosted Wotsit head said he used to go to parties here but they kept getting busted by the cops so they stopped having them.
I left him and went home. I gave him a tenner and told him to get himself into Garmoyle St for the night because a stairwell was no place to sleep.
Then I went home and had a chilled evening in the house with Battle Cat and Fabian Wildman. Betty Blue called round late in the evening and her and Fabian disapeared up the stairs with a bowl of boiled eggs.
I sat and told Battle Cat that I was going to give up crack and begging and me and him could go out for more walks. He smiled at me, even though dogs don't smile.
