Most people on these islands, myself included, have been ensconced in food and television since midday. Alas the collective groan is drawing to an end and most of us will have battoned down the hatches for an evening with Russell Crowe slaying his way through Rome on one channel or Christ’s ‘hidden’ family on the other. For me, it is time to stop being a cog in this great Christmas machine and ponder two incidents that occurred tonight.
There is an hour after nightfall, and Koltès describes it best, the hour when ‘man and beast are falling savagely one upon another*. Tonight I watched a gang of 15 restless youths (yes I did count them) from the safety of my 3rd floor window, as they surged through the street, propelled by the urge to confront the ‘man’, to disfigure ‘his’ language and crush him with as many F-words as fifteen angry tongues can spit out.
About half an hour later, long after the gang had gone, a sudden screech of tyres invaded the silent street. Doors were slammed shut, shouts went up and a different kind of rage lept forth, more sinister this time. I watched a young woman sway by the car, one hand held tight to her nose, the other extended to keep balance. The man was intimidating and ordered her several times to get back in the car. She refused, she was bleeding. She began to cry. He threatened to break her nose, to punch her some more. I had my phone to my ear and a police call center agent at the end of the line, but in the meantime, the woman had found the energy to make off on her own. The man jumped in his car and chased after her and a minute later they were out of sight. Ten minutes later and the police arrived, but of course there was nothing left to see, just the silence of a Christmas night and Russell Crowe slaying Romans in the background.
