Diary of an up and coming sociopath

Yesterday, Ian and I went to town - me to deposit cheques, he to buy new headphones. We had almost made it back without incident when, as if by divine intervention, a Nun interrupted our conversation on the bus. I wonder how many people find themselves in that situation. She was asking for help finding “George Street.” Some umming and ahhing occurred, because neither of us really had a clue. Something about the streetname was familiar. George Street. It seemed like a place we’d talk about and mention casually in conversation. Was there a George Street Tavern, Ian asked? We couldn’t say. This aged and frail Nun was relying on our help. It connected to the Iffley road, she told us; it was before Tescos. We told her to get off the same stop as us, and that would be the closest. Like some trusting fool, she followed our directions, and Ian helped her with her bags before we set off (much faster than she, since we are posessed of the proportionate speed and strength of twentysomethings) in search of the road ourselves, eager to allay our suspicions that we’d got it horribly, horribly wrong. Which, in fairness, we kind of had. George Street was nowhere near where we suspected. Indeed, it seemed that it didn’t exist. And yet, it must… We considered the options. Was George Street just so far down the road we couldn’t get to it on foot and had informed this Nun to get off many stops too early? Did George Street only exist in some kind of alternate Oxford? Were we in fact just reinforcing each other’s delusions and failing to understand that George Street didn’t even exist? Well, the answer is a combination of these and a little more.

It seemed, with her creeping senility, that the nun had misremembered the name of the correct location, which was “James Street”. We probably should’ve noticed that, since there is a Nunnery on, er, James Street, off the Iffley Road and before Tescos. Kind of makes sense when you think about it. However, it wasn’t just that simple because, you see, George Street also exists. We knew there was one around, but where? Many miles away, it turned out, for our regular Cinematorium is based on George Street in central Oxford. That’s why we remembered George Street. That’s why our directions were half-arsed and confused. That’s why there’s a Nun that still wanders the streets of Cowley haunting strangers for directions, night after night trying to get to a street that doesn’t exist.