With no time to figure out what was going on, and almost no choice in the matter anyway, we were hurriedly bundled into this fella’s neighbourhood workshop so he could show us the small metallic items he stamps out on the room’s machines. There was also a homemade and wholly unorthodox money-box fashioned from a suitably empty whiskey bottle.
During his fast and chaotic explanations, along with a worryingly inebriated demonstration of how some of the machinery actually works, he said that having reached 80, the best things in life were his hobbies — chief among them being fishing, smoking and daytime drinking, although it’s probably safe to say they aren’t necessarily enjoyed in that order.
Then, just as quickly as we were dragged inside, the tour of sorts was over, and we were deposited back out onto the street. A brief and unexpected encounter in an area I know well, proving once again that it’s impossible to predict what’s round the next corner.












































