Streatham Megabowl! Tuesday night doesnÂ’t get any better than this.
Ten pin bowling is the great leveller. From dustman to queen, thereÂ’s no telling who will be bowling in the lane next to you (though the Queen is unlikely to be there at the moment, what with her dodgy leg and all). Families can take part, courting couples, a gang of small girls or a group of fat, middle-aged men. Each as likely to win as the next. This is what a sport should be.
In my lane, three Oxford graduates in their mid-thirties whose bowling skills are severely limited. Next to us a sprawling family of almost indeterminate number, with the youngest being under two. This youngster wasnÂ’t bowling, thankfully, but instead chose to spend a fair amount of time running into our lane as one of us was about to bowl. He was in danger of being bundled over, or even caught up in the swing and being sent careering down the lane towards the pins. What a strike that would be. But as Oakesy said, the family next to us were possibly the kind of people who would take offence if you suggested their child might be in danger, so they might want to keep an eye on him.
We were right up one end of the alley, next to the video games. An eight year old girl was playing on a machine where she had to dance along to the music of Steps. That had the potential to get quite annoying.
Also hanging around the video games was a group of four youths. Young lads of about 15 or so, dressed up in their posiest clothes, and ultimately doing nothing. They clearly had no money and so were forced to spend their Tuesdays (and maybe other week days) hanging around in the Megabowl, watching the world go by, ruefully hoping that they might meet some teenage girls. Two of them spent about half an hour, leaning over the barrier at the end and watching us bowling. This was a bit intimidating because we were rubbish enough already, without having an audience. But also a bit sad. Ten pin bowling isnÂ’t the greatest spectator sport, even if you know the people involved. But me Mackay and Oakesy are, at best, inconsistent players. Not that the boys were really interested. We were just something to look at, to pass the time, they were bored and restless. ItÂ’s no wonder that kids turn to vandalism if this is the best they can hope for from their weekday night. Eventually they wandered off into the night.
The Megabowl seems bright and noisy and exciting (just look at the name. ItÂ’s not a normal bowl. ItÂ’s mega), but there is a depressing undercurrent. A gathering place for the dispossessed. With warmth and a kind of company and stuff to look at. A sad eyed old woman was sitting on a bench behind our lane. By the toilets a man in his thirties, still in his coat, with a grubby ruck-sack on his back, was staring intently at a shooting video game. No-one was playing it, he was just looking at the guns. When I came out of the toilet he was still there, still blocking the way. Still staring.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from? I canÂ’t answer that one. But I think they probably all end up at Streatham Megabowl at some point in their journey.
