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My brother and clothes
Saturday, December 31st, 2005 12:48I'm sitting in the living room with the door shut, trying to keep some warmth in at least one place in this cold house and reading some email, when the front door crashes open and my brother Ed's voice wails, "Help! Rachel, help me!"
"I'll help you!" I cry, running to find him. "What's the matter? I'll help you!"
He's in the kitchen by the time I find him, his shiny white-and-blue Brunel University jacket streaked with thick black grease. A bunched-up piece of kitchen roll in his fist moves slowly towards the mess - "Noooooo!" I yell, diving forwards to grab his wrist. "As a materials scientist, I can see you need washing up liquid for that!"
As I dab away the grease with a foamy sponge, I make Ed tell me what he did. "Well, I was walking home and I saw they'd put up a fence in front of my shortcut I've used since I was eleven. So I thought, fuck them! and climbed over it, but then I realised it was covered in anti-climb paint, and there was another one at the other end of the alley. I was trapped! So I climbed over someone's fence and ran through their garden."
Screaming, probably.
I stick the jacket in the washing machine and Ed goes up to have a shower. Under his top t-shirt he's wearing a smart long-sleeved black one. "Hmm, that's nice. I need to get one like that," I muse, rooting through the washing basket for synthetics.
"Oh. It cost sixteen-fifty in the Gap."
"Sixteen-fifty! For a plain t-shirt?"
"Well, I needed it for work - to do the sound for the play, 'cause that's what artistes wear. But I had to get it in the Gap because when I went to the shopping centre, it was on fire."
"I'll help you!" I cry, running to find him. "What's the matter? I'll help you!"
He's in the kitchen by the time I find him, his shiny white-and-blue Brunel University jacket streaked with thick black grease. A bunched-up piece of kitchen roll in his fist moves slowly towards the mess - "Noooooo!" I yell, diving forwards to grab his wrist. "As a materials scientist, I can see you need washing up liquid for that!"
As I dab away the grease with a foamy sponge, I make Ed tell me what he did. "Well, I was walking home and I saw they'd put up a fence in front of my shortcut I've used since I was eleven. So I thought, fuck them! and climbed over it, but then I realised it was covered in anti-climb paint, and there was another one at the other end of the alley. I was trapped! So I climbed over someone's fence and ran through their garden."
Screaming, probably.
I stick the jacket in the washing machine and Ed goes up to have a shower. Under his top t-shirt he's wearing a smart long-sleeved black one. "Hmm, that's nice. I need to get one like that," I muse, rooting through the washing basket for synthetics.
"Oh. It cost sixteen-fifty in the Gap."
"Sixteen-fifty! For a plain t-shirt?"
"Well, I needed it for work - to do the sound for the play, 'cause that's what artistes wear. But I had to get it in the Gap because when I went to the shopping centre, it was on fire."
