Park Life
As Dee swept the duster over the sill of the open window, music floated in on the gentle summer breeze. Strains of a guitar—maybe two—drums, then, moments later, singing. A female voice. Too distant to make out the words, but Dee thought she recognised the song.
It was then she realised this was no tune being blasted out from someone’s house or car stereo—this was a live band, playing in her local park. She’d forgotten all about the summer fayre, which was amazing really, since absolutely nothing ever happened in her neck of the woods, so the one event that was taking place should, by rights, have stuck in her mind.
The music and singing continued. Dee still couldn’t quite work out what the song was, but it was bright and ballsy and stirring.
That’s it. Bollocks to the cleani
