(diaryland) July 20, 2010 - 8:20 p.m.

I go and buy kebabs at a little trailer at a busy corner maybe once a week. I went there last night.

The lady there said, "Hi! Long time no see." I said that I was a piano teacher so I was on school holidays and sort of didn't think about purchasing kebabs when I was at home a lot.

"Do you live around here? You could teach my son!" she said, sounding pretty full on.

This son she speaks of has a kind of unusual life. Maybe the sort of life a boy wizard has, minus the magic but with the wonderment and the strangeness still in there. I get along with him pretty well. He spends every evening in the trailer with little jaunts outside to show people waiting for their kebabs tricks on his skull-emblazoned scooter. Sometimes I see him going to karate class up the road.

Last night, just as I was getting my kebabs, he bolted out of the trailer, yelling, "Bye!" He ran across the carpark and into a little hall where there were retired-age people doing some serious bootscooting.

"He has dance class," said his mum.

I watched for maybe thirty seconds while he wandered around in the hall, then fell into line and started bootscooting with the oldies. He looked so tiny, but enthusiastic.

His childhood is so different to how mine was. I like it.

I wonder if he gets a regular Swedish massage from the parlour across the road.