A café, a dog and a bike.

There is a café.

It’s here, on the second floor of this house.

This building.

There is a gallery on the floor below, and a screen printing workshop.

And my bike.

I arrived on my bike.

I’m in charge of the café today – a Friday evening. It is 19:18, and advertised opening hours are between 17hr (when I peddled up) and 20hr (when I peddle away).

‘In charge’ – that sounds grand, what it means is I volunteered to serve anyone who come sin and wants something, clear up if they do, take the money, account for it and close up.

I’ve had three customers – a couple (who weren’t), an independent, another couple (who aren’t- and a dog.

I gave the dog a bowl of water – no charge.

Nice dog.

Two young girls came in who wanted some white wine, but didn’t have any money; the café only does cash or cheques.

They were so young they did phone.

They went off to the cash machine, said they’d come back.

They didn’t.

But they signed the register.

There’s a register that makes you a member.

I’m a member.