The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

A Rare Sight

In a riverside  pub in Salisbury
where they accept all kinds
who buy entry with a drink,
they sat in a corner.
Quietly talking.

A female Punk,
with a vivid pink Mohican,
deliberately ragged clothes
an agate nose-stud,
and other punky trimmings and piercings.

The man, I assumed, was her father,
a chunky farmer type, shiny bald head,
checked shirt, weathered red face. 
A complete stereotype,
but still common in Wiltshire.

Looking again I saw a couple, 
both in their mid fifties.
Bright red nails resting comfortably
against his work-gnarled knuckles. 

I've seen old Hippies,
a few surviving Beatniks,
geriatric Teddy Boys,
even grey-haired Skateboard Dudes.
But I've rarely seen an old Punk.

===

People-watching.

People whose dressing and adorning styles identify the philosophies they once, and still, find relevant. Personally, I prefer people who dress their message, to those who approach with speeches and pamphlets.

I like the turn in the middle, Gyppo, where you re-see these two people.

Jackie

Gyppo,

I love this! It puts to rest the old saw that the longer two people are together the more they even start to look alike to say nothing of the unspoken assumption that they also think and act alike. 

Totally unnecessary for a relationship to work, as this write of yours goes the limit to point out.

Cheers, Jackie and Indar.

The abiding and unanswered question for me is, how the hell did they meet initially?

They had that comfortable look of a well established couple.  Maybe at a 'Young Farmers Disco' in a marquee at a county show, or a village hall, where the horny handed young son of the soil and the wild young punk found they had something in common which transcended the outward trimmings.

We see hints of these unlikely meetings in town sometimes, where an early morning bus picks up students for the agricultural college a few miles away.  Little 'dolly birds' in short skirts, with elaborately painted and sometimes be-jewelled finger nails, with tightly rolled overalls and a pair of welly-boots hanging over one shoulder as they mill around chattering like a swarm of finches and touch up their make-up.  In the winter they have a waxed cotton Barbour jacket over their butterfly finery

Gyppo

Fun poem and observations Gyppo. 
Dave