Namesake

June 2 2009
After dinner tonight I was craving some chocolate (those hormones again). Unable to persuade my son to go for me; cajoling, commanding, crying - none of them work with him, I pulled on a long cardigan to cover up my scruffy tracksuit bottoms and headed to the shop.

My flat is about 50 meters from the end of the road which is a cul de sac, separated from the main road by a concreted area with raised beds of municipal bushes. On one side is the OK launderette and the Wizard tatoo parlour on the other. You might have gathered that I live in one of the less sought after areas of Wimbledon.

As I got to the end of the road, I saw a body lying on the ground. I thought at first it was a man, it was dressed in grey trousers and top but when I got closer I saw the small prone figure was wearing dangling, gold-hooped earrings. It was a woman. She was breathing and her eyes were open but she looked in some distress. I asked her if she was ok, luckily she was in no mood to dispense sarcasm. She was very bedraggled, her long, dirty nails were stained with nicotine, her hair greasy and tied back in a messy ponytail. I couldn't tell if she was drunk or drugged but it was difficult to make out what she was saying - her lack of teeth didn't help.

I decided to call an ambulance, even if she was just drunk she was too vulnerable to be left there. I stayed with her until it arrived, less than five minutes I was impressed. While we were waiting I asked her name - Christine, the same as mine. I don't meet many other Christines and I never assumed I'd meet one lying incapable at the end of my road.

The ambulance arrived, the medics got out. As soon as they saw the woman, one of them said ' Come on Christine, up you get.' Obviously a regular. I left them to it and went to buy my Milky Way. I couldn't get her out of my head all evening though, wondering what had happened to her along the way for her to end up half-dead in a dead end.