Over the weekend Dulwich festival has included a local street art tour and commissioned a new piece for the entrance to the long disused Crystal Palace High level railway tunnel in Sydenham Hill Woods. I took some pictures and a story sort of emerged (with apologies to the real artists)…
Sylvie growled at herself. How could Fonzie be such a prick? She’d been working on that wall for six nights and only missed cos he’d said the Feds were doing a swamp raid. And what does he do? Put her on top like some moody cow having her monthly shit. She’d could smell his sweat lingering in the heat.
Everyone knew her style. At least he’d left the other alone for now.
She turned away, head inside her hoodie. If he wanted war, then he’d get war. She’d screw with his panels off the high street. Yeah, make them deathy, like he hated. Soft sod.
Fonzie smiled. He hadn’t expected knives and arrows but, yeah, thinking about it, that’s the sort of stupid stuff she’d do. At least he’d got her attention. He’d do a twee little comment, him showing her ‘how to’; that would really annoy her.
What the…? The bloody queen? Over her Marilyn? The smart arse. She’d kill him, she really would hang for the son of…
‘Hey Syl, seen what Fonzie’s done? Down by the pub.’ The Gerbil loved stirring but he sounded like he knew something. Sylvie slouched into her hoodie and followed. She could make out the Gerbil ahead, almost vibrating. ‘There, that’s you two, isn’t it? Fighting? What’s happened? Aren’t you all…’ He mimicked a slobbery kiss into his hand and then jumped to avoid her kick. The two huge men were his work, and the bald one clearly Fonzie, clearly going to land the first blow. Not if she had anything to do with it, he wasn’t.
Fonzie worried only when it was quiet. That’s when she was plotting. He mooched to the pub but she’d left the fighters alone. This was not what he expected. Had he gone too far? He set off up the High street and had just reached the market when he glanced down a side street, some instinct drawing his gaze. He stopped, like a hand had thumped his chest and stared. Then a large smile came onto his lips. She’d mimicked him. Two figures around a tree, one hiding. He knew what she meant. She’d be hiding and he had to find her. They’d talked about doing something in the wood, doing the old tunnel. That’s where she’d be. That’s where he’d get the message.
Fonzie didn’t do anything as bourgeois as run but he upped his pace to a trot. It didn’t take him long. There, a half finished mural filled the entrance.
The imagery as plain as anything. He started. Two small hands slipped round waist and a soft voice whispered in his ear. ‘You get the allusion? The bat?’
‘Yeah. Blood, you want me to finish it?’
‘Together. That’s what we want, isn’t it? Together?’
Fonzie nodded. ‘Yeah, always together.’