Mass Observation
Paper shielding heads from the rain, fictional
coats and pleading gazes at the grey smothering the sun.
Windows cracked open to smell the air where
buildings stand tall above trees bleeding green. The
ground almost a mirror where the rain drops have
spread.
People dash from temporary shelter to shelter.
Someone's mascara has run.
Delilah May
LIVERPOOL SCORE
The pub is filling
at a steady pace with red and blue shirts awaiting the Merseyside Derby. Two
elderly men sitting near the bar are already drunk and discuss the team line
ups in raucous enthusiastic voices.
A member of staff
emerges out of the kitchen carrying two plates of food and struggles to find
who had ordered them. He asks around the table to see if anyone has ordered the
food but no one knows where it belongs.
The match starts
and immediately afterwards a scantily clad female member of staff emerges from
the back and begins to move among the crowd selling some product. She
avoids my table.
A woman in a
Liverpool shirt and a terribly matched knee length patterned yellow skirt
begins to bellow at the TV sets, her voice is a second, less welcoming
commentary.
A small girl no
older than 5 sits at the table in front of mine fidgets in her chair, wriggling
with boredom, her toys are scattered on the table in front of her but she pays
them no attention. Her father hands her a phone playing an episode of Spongebob
Squarepants and she sits quietly to watch.
Liverpool score and
the reds scream with the delight, the woman in the skirt is louder than the
rest.
A group of men
stand watching three people sitting around a table with their drinks. As two
stand up to go to the bathroom the men look hopeful for a seat but the third
person, a young pretty girl with short brown hair, stays in her seat. The men
remain standing.
The bored girl has
lost interest in Spongebob and is once again complaining of boredom, her dad
tries to keep her quiet with little success. Dad phones mum for backup.
Everton score and
the other half of the pub explode with joy. The woman is quiet this time.
A group leave their
table when a leak starts from overhead, dripping into a half drunk glass. The
staff bring out a bucket and apologise, replacing the drink.
Janine Brough
A Series of Bullets
- A group of girls walk
alongside one another, laughing and joking as they make their way to their
unknown destination. One girl wears a bright red coat that reaches the
back of her knees, and her pale blonde hair is pulled up into a high pony
tail. She laughs the loudest, as loudly as her coat stands out.
- A car races along the
street, and as quickly as it came, it is gone. A blur of electric blue
amongst the grey, rainy background.
- A boy walks passed in
clunky, knee-high boots. His attire is all black, and his face is
patterned with various piercings. Despite his tough exterior, he beams a
smile at a supposed friend that he approaches, his smile warm and kind.
- A family unload a car,
hauling out bags and clothes and books upon books. The excitement they
exude is infectious, their hope for the future evident.
- A tall boy with phoenix like red hair
walks passed, lanky and towering above anyone who passes him.
- A woman with platinum
blonde hair strode towards her car with an air of wealth and grace
surrounding her. Her oversized, chocolate brown coat was lined with a
thick fur that shielded her against the cold breeze.
Chloe-Sue
Howarth
Day 5 at Edge Hill University. 10:40am
I’m
finding it really odd that I can smell chips near a sporting centre. Surely it
should be salad, vegetables, and meat? The smell reminds me of holidays in
Norfolk, where all you could smell on the walk down to the beach was chips,
burgers and hot dogs because of the fast food outlets dotted along the road.
I’ve
now had to stand in the shelter because it’s raining. Again. It’s like
someone’s got their thumb over a hosepipe and the fine mist is spraying
everywhere. It’s that really fine rain that soaks you more than heavy rain.
It’s definitely coat wearing weather.
I’ve
just seen a man casually stroll in to the Wilson Centre – with plenty of ‘swag’
as the youth would say – in a white t-shirt, which is possibly the worst thing
he could’ve worn on a day like today. How brave is he? Mind you, with his
dreadlocks hanging down to his waist I don’t think he’s going to let a bit of
rain cramp his style. This man oozes cool.
Now
there are people in shorts. Do they not realise they’re living in England? It’s
not even summer anymore! At least they’ve covered the top halves of their
bodies in dark Edge Hill emblazoned hoodies. Their trainers squelch as they
stride in to the building.
I’ve
got to say, there’s more action round this side of the Wilson Centre (I’m
standing in front of a wet bench next to the running track), but then I am near
Chancellors Court and Chancellors South. Two older (not old) women, that I
passed on the way to the Social and Psychological Sciences building have just
passed me again, their ever so slightly Scottish accents ringing in my ears.
It’s a shame there aren’t more people talking down here, I do love an accent.
An
absolutely beautiful Golden Labrador has just padded past me, his loyalty
apparent as he walks directly at the side of his owner. He’s a guide dog, ready
for duty in his white harness and luminous yellow lead, but still showing that
he’s a typical Lab with his chunky, always wagging tail. I think my heart just
melted.
Two
girls are just discussing the change in lyrics in the song ‘Baa, Baa Black
Sheep’:
“They’ve
changed it from black sheep to rainbow sheep because they say it’s racist”.
Their voices trail off as they continue on their way, and I can’t hear the rest
of the conversation.
There’s some clear In-group
out-group divide on the field inside the track. There are two groups of birds,
of different species, huddled in their separate groups. It’s loosely reflecting
the behaviour of the students today, who happen to be giving me strange looks
while I’m writing. The birds are staying in their little groups, like the
students, and aren’t mixing with the others. Yet there are the odd few birds
who don’t seem to care about social convention and wander about on their own
like they don’t need friends. The “ain’t nobody got time for that” video
springs to mind at this point. You go independent birds!
Jenna
Shaw
Animal Watching
Crunch,
clip, crunch. The sound of my boots
scuffing along the ground is the only sound that I hear at first. A soft breeze tussles my hair as I walk,
large head phones hung heavily around my neck.
I continue along the path, the 3G pitch up ahead. On my left I hear shouts, a wolf-whistle here
and there. I don’t turn my head, I know
they are directed at me. Some of the
boys behind the fencing of the football pitch stare out at me as I walk. I hate when guys do that, ogling at you. The thought instantly transports me to the
memory of kennels as a kid, or even the zoo, walking past these eyes. They could be staring, or they might not be,
doesn’t matter really, the self-conscious part of you will always be convinced
that someone, somewhere, is staring.
I make
the conscious decision not to look around at them. I focus instead on the crunch of my boots as
I look to the recently planted trees in the distance. I try to listen to the other sounds that
reach my ears now, two girls behind me, deep in conversation about another girl
in their halls and the antics of the night before. Up ahead, the 3G pitch is looming, lads in
brightly coloured shirts run to and fro, their bulky builds a dead give-away to
the sport that they play. As I draw near
I can hear the breathed out responses and the complaints for some to pull their
weight. One lad hucks a wad of spit out
onto the artificial grass, the guy behind him pulls up the bottom of his shirt
to wipe away the sweat dripping down his face. I pause by the metal frames designed for
working your upper body and watch them for a few minutes. One team makes some distance before they are
in a scrum once more.
Moments
later I look away, attention drawn instantly to the quick succession of footfalls
that seems to be drawing near. A girl
silhouetted against the clear September sky makes her way towards me. I watch her as she nears, her head up, back
straight, her feet maintaining a steady rhythm.
Her ponytail swishes back and forth with her body’s momentum. Everything from the clearly expensive,
fluorescent running shoes to the lightweight jacket she wears tells me this run
is not the only one she’ll be doing this week.
She has the figure of a runner, or rather, how one would perceive a
“running-figure” to look like. I
wouldn’t really know though, I don’t run.
As she passes, I can hear the buzzing akin to angry wasps blasting from
her earphones. The sound is too
distorted to figure the genre but the drum beat sounds a lot like a song I was
just listening to, perhaps alternative rock?
Her footsteps fade behind me as she continues on her journey, I proceed
on mine.
It’s
quiet for a while as I make my way over the crest of the hill, the sun
illuminating the scenery before me. Fields
and trees in the distance are seemingly engulfed in an early afternoon mist. Overhead I hear a number of honks and
squawks. I look up thinking I might see
a couple of ducks or maybe a few seagulls, but I am wrong. Overhead, honking and jostling for a position
in a large V formation is a flock of geese.
Their wings beat relentlessly as they attempt to maintain the speed and
height of their kin. The strongest goose
always flies at the front, but as I watch the large V shifts into four separate
V-formations all with their own decided leader.
Over a hundred geese organise themselves above my head and fly on
towards the sun. Such a sight I have
only ever witnessed on TV or read about in books but when it is above your head
it is so much more believable, captivating.
I look around to the landscape before me momentarily inspired by the
sight I have just witnessed, and I smile.
I am happy to be here.
Mary Carleton
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