The Stranger
Danny Lam
Danny tells the story of when he met the stranger in a Bristol pub.
Transcript
Out drinking with my friends in a pub in Bristol I found myself strangely subdued, uninterested, uncommunicative and uninterested. The words seemed to go in one ear and out the other, not sure why.
The pub was suffocating, smoky and full of people all wanting to be centre of attention. I noticed this man on his own, talking to himself, using his hands to help him express his words, as if was a groundsman directing an aeroplane that had just landed.
He saw that I was looking at him, and began walking over towards me, swaying side to side, bumping into people and spilling his drink in the process.
I can see that he was drunk, scruffy, unshaven, looking as if he had been sleeping rough on the streets. I noticed the booze on his breath, and a strange damp smell you normally associate with a garden pond after a brief shower.
He asked if it was OK for him to sit down. I said “yes”. We looked at each other cautiously for a few seconds, sizing each other up and he asked where I was from with an accent I did not recognise. I told him originally from Essex and now based in Bristol. He said he was from Manchester.
I asked him what he was doing in Bristol and he said that he was on the run from some big-time drug dealer.
There was genuineness in his voice, a voice with a hint of regret and sadness as though it was going to be his last words.
We chatted as if we had known each other for years, both speaking with enthusiasm and listening to each other with interest. Before we knew if, the pub was empty, my friends had disappeared and the bouncers were asking us to leave.
He stood up, poured the remainder of his drink down his throat, shook my hand and left without saying a word.
I never caught his name, and every now and again I find myself wondering about the strange
