The Over Zealous Greengrocer.

Barcelona Town/couple of sundays back

Hey your sister just rang.

Really?

No, she sent an e-mail.

Why did you say she just rang?

It sounded snappier.

A crocodile sounds snappy, you just sound daft. What did  say, and WHY are you reading my e-mails!

I’m your secretary.

You are?

I could be.

I’d prefer it if you were my partner, in a non-romantic way.

Ok, anyway, she asked you about the bullfight.

The bullfight! That was over fifty years ago, how could she remember that?

She wasn’t there.

Exactly!

She said it must have been traumatising.

I’ll never go to one ever again.

There was blood on the street Monday morning a week ago in Barcelona, did you see it?

I tried not to; it was covered in sawdust. It might have been paint.

It might have been a tomato that had been dragged along the pavement by an over zealous greengrocer but I doubt it.

I doubt that too.

By the way, I wanted to ask you about Patrick.

Patrick O’Malley?

That’s the one.

Could you ask me tomorrow? I’ve just opened a bottle of wine and put Kind of Blue on the turntable.

You could. Do you still have a turntable?

Don’t you?