I got back to my flat today to see smoke billowing out from the downstairs neighbour's flat. As I was about to enter, another neighbour said to me, "I wouldn't go in the block if I were you, Laura. He's set his flat on fire again."
This happens with reasonable regularity.
In the hallway, the one-legged, sweary arsonist neighbour refused to leave the block. (Well, as much as you can when you're in a wheelchair and pretty much at the mercy of anyone who can operate a wheel.) He had a cigarette in one hand and was swearing about needing his bag. He shouted, "Wanker" indiscriminately. Though to be honest, I'm not sure you can discriminately shout, "Wanker".
The fire engines arrived (this time it wasn't me who called them, honest). One-legged man called the firemen wankers as they wheeled him against his will out of the block into the entrance. Whilst blocking the exit, he lit a fag. I used my mobile to call upstairs to the flat and suggested that TheBloke (TM) might want to consider exiting. He said he'd be down. He took ages. I thought he'd probably inhaled smoke and collapsed on the stairs. Turns out he was putting some trousers on for the first time that day.
The block of flats smoked. The one-legged, sweary neighbour blocked the exit with his wheelchair and smoked. The firemen had big hoses. TheBloke (TM) and I tried to find a coffee shop, but cafe culture has yet to hit Bethnal Green. After ten minutes of fruitless wandering, we returned to the flat and ate dinner.
Life has gone on pretty much as before.
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