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Tuesday, 10 May 2016


I'm estimating this happened sometime in the late 1960s..........

Frank Rooney was driving the McErlean’s van from the bakery in Arizona Street 
To the shop on the Springfield Road, Belfast. I was riding shotgun, so to speak,
Saturday assistant. The van was two-thirds full, trays of cream buns, snowballs,
Jam puffs and other goodies, first delivery on the roster, busiest day of the week.

At the crossroads, vehicles travelling from left to right and right to left gave way,
Except the driver of an Austin-Healey, I think, who zoomed out of nowhere,
Causing Frank to slam on the anchors, skid and screech to halt.  The van lurched 
Like a bendy cartoon wagon. No contact. Austin-Healey was quick to disappear.

We got out and Frank opened the back doors. “Fuck me,” he gasped, staring
At what looked like a mountain of goo - jam, cream, coconut, pastry, a work
In progress for a Turner Prize art award, a huge blob of white and red slime.
The busiest day of the week screwed by a Stirling Moss/Mr Magoo hybrid jerk.

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