Day Four: Kingsland

I knew I was in for a treat when his teeth began to fall out.

He was truly a stuttering shambles but behind the faded bluesy eyes and constant cryptic mumbles about his not so growing luscious hair patches, I found something interesting. Introduced to Murray when I started at my current job in Kingsland that not only treats me to minimum wage but Murray’s constant, friendly begging’s for a flat white every day and a glass of water to put his teeth in. He was a charmer (The James Dean of Kingsland some would say.)

I found Murray last Sunday sitting at the back of the café, hiding himself around empty flat white cups, finger marks evidence of a quick finish. Sitting there waiting and watching, his mind floated throughout the courtyard. Picking up the vessel wrapped around freshly cut fingers old eyes rolled slowly down in direction of what was in his hands, half empty blue eyes looking at a finished cup in surprise. Wrinkled road maps spread evenly over a tanned face. Small twitches tickling the sides of his mouth turning a calm face into an intense spasm, his mouth pulled to the back of his head like a bad joke and forced smile. Rolling a ciggie before we started he burned the rolled paper using his whole face to suck the life out of that tally in hope of attempting the impossible, gums clapping in applaud against a dry tongue he pulled out what was left on his fingertips and we were off; no questions needed, Murray was a season pro. Answering all queries without having to ask and within forty five short minutes, three flat whites and two rolled ciggies, I knew near 60 years of this mans life.

Raised out on the west countries of Auckland, he was brought up hard and the older of two brothers who can now be found in Australia as a tattoo artist. He left the countryside early and his brother behind, finding odd jobs until jumping the ditch. No doubt laying good memories within every bar he wished to place his beer matt and empty glass upon. Watching Murray thinking back on Australia, happily rehearsing the time spent, a stretched smile crept across, a slight twitch and then a larger smile remaining for a few moments.

Sailing back to Auckland to close out his memorable 20’s, employed soon as a mental health councillor for a handful of years. This is where my past memories of Murray were confused by my own imagination. Thinking this was the real Shutter Island patient; I swore he told me he worked in mental health, before they all finally turned wicked locking him in with his own patients for a few more dark years. Beautiful lies. Confronting the rumours Murray had lost memories about this café fib, so I lay it to rest.

Truth be told he was let go after having a few bad accidents, the most memorable falling off a 14 meter balcony in a flower bush then giving passerby’s red roses while waiting for the ambulance. (Even in his hour of need he kept a cool head.)

A wandering shadow for a few more years after the crash, Murray found his roots retiring in 1998 to Kingsland now living a simpler life mowing lawns while using his benefit money to pay for hard earned cigs and drink. His interests include playing the organ from time to time and touching his hair a lot, so if any ladies ranged between 40-99 happen to come across this blog get in touch and I can see what we can organise.







Drinks on you, always.