Legend of the Golden Hawk

Lately I have been getting into just about every aspect of snail mail acquisition, and today I thought I had hit the jackpot.

When I got home and there were 3 letters waiting for me. One of them was from the Barbican with a ticket refund because I had to return a ticket after winning a pair of tickets for another show on the same night somewhere else.

Of the remaining 2, I was overjoyed to see that my internet pseudonym had been used on one

and the other one was handwritten with quite a cunning little gag. As a little background, I used to play quite a bit of pool at university with Jay (the same one as in the last post) and my nickname, after my pool cue, was The Hawk.

Of all the people in the world who could send me mail, only Jay would know to call me Hawk, and it hadn't occurred to me before that living on Goldhawk Road, it could be a good one to pass myself off as the Golden Hawk. I love the ones that are like a little nudge and a wink.

"Gotta be Jay." I thought, "Couldn't be anyone else"

As I got a late call from the Yaa tonight to do some photo work, I had to go out all night leaving the ritual of opening the envelope til I got back from the Yaa. Really excited I tore open the envelope to find....

A wholesale price list for fish.

"What the fuck is this?" I was thinkin but still utterly convinced it was Jay. So I bumbled through the whole thing, assuming he was makin' a joke about the fish application on my REAL wall, and perhaps hinting at a sinister side to all that fishing he does in his spare time.

Finally, after rummaging through 14 pages of skinless and boneless cod and plaice fillet prices I realised that I live on top of a chip shop, which is incidentally numbered 73 Goldhawk Road, as opposed to 73b.

What a nobber...
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