Lunchtime
My boss played chess by post. He spent all morning thinking before writing his move in the grid then gave me the letter to take to the box.
After a flurry of customers en route to the footie via the pub I'd sit on the step, pull the ring pull off a can of Quatro and wear it as a ring while I drank.
A boy, with a flick like David Sylvian, would come in early afternoon. He bought the coloured Sobranie cocktail cigarettes but once asked for the Black Russians. Imagining his life thrilled me. Still does a bit.
- Category: True Stories Told As Fiction
- Tags: newsagents, tobacconists
3 comments add one below
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Lisa Williams over 7 years ago
He seemed it. Am big fan of imagining lives for people, including myself X
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Neville Hunt over 7 years ago
Oh I remember Sobranie and Black Russians...but that was when the most recent, ungrateful Nobel Literature Laureate was my doppleganger! I tried to match his coolness....now I'm more like Tom Waits. Imagine that.
(PS, if you don't want it Bobby, I'll stand in for you...or am I just blowin' (or something) in the wind?) -
Lisa Williams over 7 years ago
God- I thought they were the height of sophistication. (I looked like Angie from Eastenders) X
