garethm6

I used to live in Princes Hill and because of the nearby oval I took up jogging. If you jog every day you quickly become “on nodding terms” with the other regulars. During one of my timed stretching breaks a tall man with long hair warned me “if you ever see a little man wearing yellow jogging, steer clear of him!”

I snorted - because this is exactly the sort of malicious neighbourhood gossip I abhor! Though perhaps I should have asked for more information - but he was faster than me and quickly out of earshot.

But not three days later I was jogging my morning circuit when I saw a little man wearing saffron running gear coming towards me.

The other regulars avoided him - but I didn’t want to presume ill intent on his part. So I jogged on with a friendly half smile planted on my face.

He grinned a grin that in retrospect I now realise was wicked and not at all neighbourly. As he jogged by, he quickly reached up and poked my eye.

I stopped running, one hand on my knee, the other covering my abused eye.

The little man ran on looking back over his shoulder - but he didn’t look happy.
And to this day I remain poorly sighted in one eye and singularly vexed. I mean, if poking well-meaning bystanders in the eye doesn’t bring you joy - why do it? Why does that little man even get up in the morning?

Anyway, I hate princes hill and it’s the worst place I ever lived.