On Exhibition

A tall man, mid-thirties, muzzled hair, barefooted but in check shirt and baggy shorts, entered the Square with purpose. He darted in and out of the crowds, perhaps trying to throw off the stocky dark-haired woman who was haranguing him from behind. When she grabbed his sleeve, almost tearing it off him, he gave up, slumping at a picnic table. She stood before him, legs apart, leaning over the end of the table, yelling at his bowed head. Her hands took turns to gesture over him; no on-looker needed a translator to know he had been very naughty indeed.

Eventually she made the mistake of turning to appeal to passers-by, and he was gone like a shot, sliding away into the crowd.

Her disbelief that he could have vanished so completely included peering under the table, before she hauled herself onto the table top to scan the crowd loudly. Even though she wasn’t using English, I’m sure it wasn’t his name she was using. Her tanned body-builder figure in bike pants and tank top, under a squared-off face and tight black shorn hair made quite a picture.

I was probably not the only person who thought the show would end there, but we underestimated her.

She climbed down, apologizing to the table by wiping the top down in a caressing way. Making her unsteady path to a nearby water display, she leant over the waters edge and used cupped hands to rinse her face. Then, for a few brief seconds she sat on the waters edge facing the crowd, legs swinging quietly, as though contemplating.

But then she rose to stand on the edge, peering into the water. There was an inevitability about where this was going. Sure enough, she slid not-so-gracefully into the water, and squatted against the edge. How I envied her the madness which allowed such sanity in 32-degree heat.

The water jets became a source of intense interest for her. Keen experimentation showed she could alter the direction and arc of each as she desired. Passersby were showered with cooling water, and then abused soundly when they failed to show due appreciation.

The gentleman statue attached to the water feature was invited to partake in a serious discussion, but clearly his responses were not satisfactory as the woman gave him a severe lecture at the top of her voice, striding before him in the water, and using her arms to power-point the highlights. But then he was forgiven; maybe it was the heat. She became contrite, turning a jet on him to cool him down. She even went over and tried to rub a mark off his base, before retiring to her former squatting site.

Next she noticed a tourist sitting at the back of the statue. With great skill she attempted to train a water jet on the poor man, but only managed to dampen his coat. Her giggle at getting a direct hit made more than one person smile.

After another very impassioned speech to the statue, she subsided to take a little paddle in the water; she looked cooled while we, the sane ones, all continued to bake under the sun.

Sadly, it could not last. Two police arrived to invite her for a chat. As she climbed out of the water feature in Exhibition Square, York, they quietly handcuffed her, and led her to a waiting van. She appeared puzzled but did as requested.

I watched the van leave, then went across the road to the only cool place on offer, as sensible folk do… the hole in the city wall where I had to pay 40p for a pee… and the chance to sit in shade for five minutes!