Big up for Greggs the bakers & sorry Darryl Hall, I think I've stolen your hair this week - but WHAT HAIR!!!!
(Article by Michael Holden)
Outside a pub I watched two men slouch across a picnic table. The first man was sober, his posture a consequence of fatigue perhaps. The second, through well dressed and affluent was on the cusp of being completely plastered, a stare of affairs that clearly caused his companion some concern.
Man 1 “How long did you stay off the drink for.”
Man 2 “Three days, more or less. Well we had some Rose on the third day. It was the kid’s birthday, that didn’t really count. Then I had a meeting this morning, had a drink after that, sat outside. Bumped into Chris, had some lunch. Popped over the road and now here we are.
Man 1 (looking at his own drink as though reckoning his own worthiness to pass judgement) “Well, best make this the last one then, for today.”
Man 2 (laughing) “Fuck off.”
Both men laughed a little, then settled down. Next, a man with a preposterously developed torso and open necked shirt strutted past. He looked ridiculous, an antiquated stereotype reborn. Other people at the pub laughed discreetly at him, the drunk man laughed loud enough for them all.
Man 1 “Quit, he’ll hear you.”
Man 2 “Who?”
Man 1 “That bloke.”
Man 2 “I’m not laughing at any bloke.”
Man 1 “So what are you laughing at?”
Man 2 “That bag.”
He pointed at a paper sack that was blowing down the street while his mate looked at him in some despair, seeing that his friend had attained the mindset of a veteran street drinker, even if he still had decent clothes.
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