Ok – there was a duvet and a sheet.
Where were you?
France, that was clear; some sort of junk
shop, yard… field.
You were happy with the duvet?
I needed one, still do in fact.
It’s gone?
Someone stole it.
Bet you were miffed.
Niffed, I turned into a ranting racist. It’s
why I tipped his cart over.
That was petulant.
He took my book.
He was just playing.
Monopoly is a game!
So is cricket.
He had glasses.
I thought you liked glasses.
Hmmm.
Anyway he gave it back.
Yeah, and then got narky about the car.
It had a flat tyre.
Whose side are you on?
Tell me about the book.
Collected monologues from desert Island
Discs, published in the 1920’s or so…
Is that possible?
Come on, everything is possible in a dream….with
strong simple black and white engravings of fish, and folk, and fungi.
What did the other guy have?
In his cart?
Yes, you helped him put everything back
didn’t you?
I felt guilty.
Or ashamed…. He had photos that he had graffiti-ed
a sort of silver enamel over.
What about the other guy?
The American?
Yes.
He had an Atlas, it was damaged…. and just the cover pages really, but
beautiful colours.
Fifties?
Vaudeville.
Can you hear that owl?
Yes, but it’s not the one that was
screeching earlier.
This ones hooing.
Time to go to work.
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