The monotonous tone of her voice lulled me, an endless tide of bingo numbers spilling like the iridescent neon onto the street outside. I had just emerged from MacDonalds on Jamaica street and had slipped on a discarded gherkin, banging my head on a nearby litter bin, I lay for a moment within the greasy wrappings and half eaten burgers. I drifted off, her mellifluous voice mingled with bleeps and pings from within the amusement arcade; was that her vital statistics she was reading me?... 42…10…38….62…no, too many, she couldn’t be that curvaceous, or could she? Perhaps her form defied mathematics and our love could too- although shopping for clothing may require a rudimentary knowledge of calculus. As I climbed to my feet I stared with fresh eyes on the palace of amusement; all the time swathed in her dulcet stream of numbers. Stepping over the threshold I entered the deafening vestibule and was confronted with a sign simply stating ‘change given’. But how did they know that I sought change? Change from the humdrum, the tedium, and escape to the mesmerising world of fun and romance with my mathematically impossible muse. Some say change is good, but numismatists prefer doubloons every time.
