Out of Line

Another day another quarrel with the wife, money-based of course. I don’t earn enough apparently. I love her, really I do. This is not the way I wanted to go off to work. But my work is straightforward you might say, so I decided to have a good think about extra jobs and earning more whilst doing the task in hand.

I got to the depot and took out the line and ground painting machine and my brief for the day. I added a few extra tins to the cart just in case. Lost in thought, automatic pilot setting, I created the white lined rectangle. In my head I thought about shelf stacking, being a porter, designing new road layouts and elegant open spaces. I let my imagination rip and was feeling so much happier now, until I came back to earth and I looked around. What had I done? I tried to eradicate one set of lines but that didn’t quite come off as I had expected, although it was an interesting effect. A feeling of resignation came over me and then I had a revelation.

I thought, what the hell? Banksy can make art on walls why shouldn’t I create on the ground. I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I selected colours freely, spread them as far and wide as they would go. It looked good, well colourful, and I felt good. Some local folk came, smiled and took photographs. Little children clapped their hands.

As I took my cart back to the depot I pondered my next move. I could feign a breakdown, beg for forgiveness. As I sipped my large mug of builder's tea in a nearby café, I let my eyes run down the jobs section of the newspaper. I might be hailed as the next big thing in urban street art, but I had better have a back up plan.