Tramp Chronicles: ALBERt

Life or legend? Myth or reality? Deviant sexual predator or merely misunderstood? These questions shroud the existence of one man, one man known to most by the name of Albert, although it is unclear if this is a pseudonym or in fact the name his mother "blessed" him with at birth. He lives in a grotty 2 bedroom flat in a hidden cul-de-sac deep in the depths of south London. For years little was known about Albert, and still there is much to find out, to the lively adult inhabitants of Fracas close he was a docile mad man who came and went from maudsley mental hospital to Fracas baring no reverence to their everyday lives. To the children, however he was a frightening shadow of darkness and mystery; apparently he threw his cans of beans against the wall to open them for his dinner, apparently he tried to kidnap Josie but she managed to get away somehow. He came like the candy man of south, except you don’t have to look in the mirror and call his name 5 times, you just have to say his name once, look around and guarantee he would be there looking in your direction whether you’re in your house looking out the kitchen window, or you’re on the road, walking somewhere surrounded by a hundred people or more.Albert had lived at Fracas close since time began or at least he was there before I moved in, and he will probably be there when judgement day comes, albeit his very own crack of doom or indeed the day that revelation speaks of. Over the years, generations came and went, people were born and people died in that very close and gradually the place changed as would be expected. As it changed, so did Albert, he went from being that docile mad man, the sight of which horrified children, to a more overt, more out going sort of guy. His presence certainly increased and to those of us who were those frightened children this was indeed a frightening sight. The changes in Albert were noticeable to say the least, he had a new walk, a kind of bop, a mad man bop where his head bobbed forward and you could now tell when he was having a particularly ''good'' day, because there would be a little bit more of bounce in his step, a little bit more of a jig. Before long Albert had a form of girlfriend, a skinny, pale, sallow faced crack head who visited everyday without fail, shouting, "ALLLBERRRT" from the top of her crack damaged lungs as she meandered towards his flat, announcing her arrival in this way probably because neither of them had mobile phones to contact each other and also it was more than likely that she had once entered unannounced and found him doing some deed or other that she wished never to witness again, be she crack head or not.