"Lunch" drabbles by Neville Hunt

Nosey neighbour

Lunch #3

Nosey old cow! She thinks I can’t see her peeking at me and generally minding my business. What’s it to do with her? People like her make me sick. There she is behind her grubby, yellowing net curtains thinking she’s invisible. But it’s easy to spot the small movements at the edge of the curtains as she strains to see who’s coming here for lunch.

Sad really that she hasn’t anything better to occupy her. I should feel sorry for her... talk to her... but she’s never seen in the street... she just just noses away behind her net curtains.

Through the net

Lunch #2

She seems respectable enough, but it crossed my mind that she’s maybe running a knocking shop in her house. When I say running a ‘knocking shop’ that suggests that she’s the ‘madam’, but she seems to be the only one there so maybe it’s ‘privates practice’ (hehe!), but then her ‘clientele’ are both men and women.

But perhaps I’m being a bit unfair on her... after all, she’s never done me any harm! Maybe she’s a qualified physiotherapist and she sorts out people’s backaches, sports injuries and the like. Who knows? I certainly don’t... but I aim to find out!

Strange goings on

Lunch #1

Strange goings on in the house across the street. Odd! She looks like a normal kind of woman on the face of it. Nothing particularly flashy about her. Early to mid fifties I reckon. Unmarried it seems, but very popular... with some strange people though. Most look like vagrants or perhaps people sleeping rough. Someone seems to turn up every day, a bit before lunchtime. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the same person arrive twice.

Its odd. You may think I’m a bit nosey, and maybe I am, but she can’t see me behind these net curtains, can she?

The numbers game

Grandfathers Lunch #2

It was a masterpiece of organisation. There were so many of us there that we took over most of the restaurant. Doctors, dentists, lawyers, accountants... and me.

All the time I was expecting to be ejected on account of my extreme youth, but I obviously dodged that particular bullet. Rather a lot of beer and wine was consumed, but we had to save a drop for the toast.

The organiser had done a tally of the total number of grandchildren for whom the group was responsible. Last year 99, this year 166.

Bloody hell... who says Britain's productivity is down?

Feeling youthless

Grandfathers Lunch #1

Annual lunch with the lads. I knew lots of them, but the others were mates of mates. The venue had been fixed well in advance; the turnout was very good. Lots of bonhomie and laughter was in prospect. I was really looking forward to it.

I arrived at the restaurant in the busy city centre, having taken the bus in case I had a few too many sherbets over lunch. With a spring in my step, as befits a sprightly 18 year old, I joined the gang.

I realised I had the wrong place. It was full of old men!