Council Ball

Written by Ben Tallon

Me and the dog, Wednesday morning. It’s lashing it down this morning so I get out the £35 high-vis council worker style coat because it’s properly waterproof, not shower-proof after one wash like the one I blew a tonne on in the outdoor shop. With it, I put on a flat cap because, thanks to my massive skull, the hood makes me look like one of those 1990s vending machine glow-in-the-dark condoms. Anyway, it’s only after a while – and I wonder if this might be in my head – it seems to me that I’m getting less eye contact, no small talk today. Perception of appearance: are people assuming I’m as rough as a rat-catcher’s whistle? That I might leer or wolf whistle? If not that, what do people assume with high-vis, if anything? I always wondered, even though I’ve never really cared, how my appearance might precede me and undermine my creative offerings in some way. On my first trip to London, embarrassingly, I wore smart trousers and a shirt.

On Thursday I’m back in the normal getup, this time with a wooly hat with large pom pom. I forget about the eye contact and small talk thing, but during the walk, the dog and I find a knackered old football and have a right old tear up. I carry it to the park near the house and notice I’m drawing a lot of smiles and nods from both parents and children going the other way on the school run. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll try mixing Wednesday and Thursday and pay close attention.