Areas of interest

I notice a cat on a portion of overgrown land fenced off all the way round. The land is an overhang by the side of a railway track. The cat was sat on a stone in the middle of that growth.

There is a cancellation. I was not told about it. I have time on my hands. There are other things I could be doing. I could be buying a mop and a bucket.

I leave. I cross the green and end up diverting into the green square of the bowling green. I prop my bike round the back of a bench and walk around in order to sit on it.

The eyes of a man glance over the edge of a window in a portakabin at the back of the bench. Before I sit down I notice that the door to the cabin is open and I see cleaning utensils propped up against the inside wall of a narrow corridor.

I sit on the wood of the bench which is worn away in places - cracked and splintering into powder so that the upturned screws that were driven in from underneath are revealed boring into the now lost wood.

Without really thinking about it I am rubbing the wood which remains between my forefinger and thumb, like tobacco. I am breaking off pieces and then rolling it like that into soft pulp and then into slivers or dust letting it drain away between my fingers.
I am breaking off larger and larger pieces where the wood still cracks as I get more and more involved as if it were bark from a tree. I find it relaxing to do. But I`m suddenly aware that this is a bench, the gnarled and fangled ribbing of the supportive and rusting metal structure on the underside through which the screws as they were sent into the wood were once driven, reminds me of that.
Does the man in the portakabin witness my act? A criminal act.

Two men, one young, one older enter the bowling green. They ask me if it is permitted to come in to this area. I say "Yes".

They glance towards the window of the portakabin. I look too but do not see any one there.
My phone goes off. I answer. I get up to leave.