Sheffield: Sex City – Pulp

Intake, Manor Park, The Wicker, Norton, Frecheville, Hackenthorpe, Shalesmoor, Wombwell, Catcliffe, Brincliffe, Attercliffe, Ecclesall, Woodhouse, Wybourn, Pitsmoor, Badger, Wincobank, Crookes, Walkley, Broomhill

[…]

I was only about eleven when this happened. We were living in a big block of flats with a central courtyard. All the bedroom windows in the building opened onto this court, and sometimes in the middle of the night, in that building it sounded like a mass orgy. I may have been only eleven, but no-one had to tell me what all that moaning and yelling was about. I’d lie there mesmerised, listening to the first couple. Invariably, they’d wake up other couples, and like some kind of chain reaction, within minutes the whole building was fucking. I mean, have you ever heard other people fucking, and really enjoying it? It’s a marvellous sound. Not like in the movies, but when it’s real. It’s such a happy, exciting sound.

[…]

The sun rose from behind the gasometers at 6:30am, crept through the gap in your curtains and caressed your bare feet poking from beneath the floral sheets. I watched him flaking bits of varnish from your nails trying to work his way up under the sheets. Jesus, even the sun’s on heat today, the whole city getting stiff in the building heat.

[…]

The day didn’t go too well, too many chocolates and cigarettes, I kept thinking of you and almost walking into lampposts. Why is it so hot? (Peace Gardens, yeah!) The air coming to the boil, rubbing up against walls and lampposts trying to get rid of it. Old women clack their tongues in the shade of crumbling concrete bus shelters. Dogs doing it, in central reservations, and causing multiple pile-ups in the centre of town. I didn’t want to go in the first place but I’ve been sentenced to three years in the housing benefit waiting room. I must have lost your number in the all-night garage and now I’m wandering up and down your street calling your name. In the rain. Whilst my shoes turn to sodden cardboard.

[…]

We finally made it… on a hilltop at 4am. The whole city is your jewellery box. A million twinkling yellow street lights. Reach out and take what you want. You can have it all. Jesus, it took a long time. I didn’t think we were going to make it. So bad during the day, but now snug and warm under an eiderdown sky. All the things we saw: everyone on Park Hill came in unison at 4.13am and the whole block fell down. The tobacconist caught fire and everyone in the street died of lung cancer. We heard groans from a T-reg Chevette: You bet, you bet, yeah.

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