The Wallsend Masonic Temple

The Yekaterinoslav constabulary, also known as the Екатеринославъ, were in hot pursuit of the North Tyneside Boys of Wallsend. Wallsend was a place of such poverty and poor tidings that not even the Екатеринославъ were comfortable jumping the dividing wall that divided Wallsend from the rest of the world. The sun crept over the Wallsend wall, a throat of fire swallowing the clouds, the sky and everything in its way. The shamble leg man, who happened to be standing nearby near, covered his face with his arm and yelped ‘…i e i e...’. Over there, there the alms man cowered beneath the shadow of the Seder Grocer’s awning, his alms cap twisted into a ball clutched in his hands. Not far from there, there the legless man hopped on his good leg, his face dwarfed into a mad grimace, the sun chasing him like a dog its tail. Over there not far from there a man with a splintered umbrella, the spokes reaching this way and that, ran for cover, the sun in blazing pursuit. ‘…death comes to those who can’t out run it…’ said the man, a spoke rivaling his coattails. ‘…i e i e…’ yelped the shamble leg man, ‘…e i i e…’.

The Yekaterinoslav constabulary (Екатеринославъ) vaulted the dividing wall and raced into the fray, the captain hollering ‘…get ‘em me boys, e i e i…’. After the Mason’s dance let out a mob of sweaty danced-out people set out into the streets, the constabulary wary that they might give them the evil eye or cast aspersions upon them; the captain of the constabulary (Екатеринославъ) ordering his men to charge the Wallsend Mason’s Temple, where the missing whore’s glove was said to be hidden among the rector’s spoils. ‘…i e e i…’ he hollered, ‘…e e i e i i e e…’.

And that was that, nothing more happened that’s worth recounting, not a thing. As with most things, things we think are important, things that we frame our lives around, nothing is really all all that important; just another thing happening in a rather droll uneventful life. That’s all, nothing more.