Slowly but steadily I’m getting my ideas down on paper for my next novel, set in the 1950’s, the main character is a young reporter on the Easthope Bugle called Mike Scott.
Here are a few ideas… so far, maybe so good? Mike has one to a local pub, the Dog and Pineapple to meet his friend Adam:
“Good evening Mr. Scott, usual?”
“Good evening Mrs Glossop, yes, half of mild please.”
She hobbled away to find a glass, Mike waited for the inevitable conversation which would follow. It was raining so it would probably be ‘terrible rain we’ve been having, all to do with them nucular bombs, Mr. Glossop says’. If it was a pleasant day it would be ‘we could do with some rain, we’re in for a drought Mr. Glossop says, all to do with them nucular bombs, Mr. Glossop says’… or something similar.
Perhaps Mr. Glossop could have his own corner in The Bugle, ‘old Glossop’s pessimistic precipitation forecast’…
“Terrible rain we’ve been having, all to do with them nucular bombs, Mr. Glossop says,” Mrs G commented as she passed Mike his half pint.
He gave her a shilling and as usual she said had he not got anything smaller, well the only thing smaller than a shilling was a sixpence or a farthing and he didn’t think she would accept the single sixpence he had in his pocket, so no he was sorry he hadn’t.
“Feeling a little testy, Mr. Scott? You’re not coming down with something are you? Mr. Glossop says there’s some terrible germs about..” and surprisingly, the terrible germs weren’t anything to do with them nucular bomb. “It’s them DP’s, all sorts of nasty diseases you get from them.”
Mike thanked her, took his change and stood looking round, peering through the fug to see if there was somewhere for him and Adam to sit. There was a small table with a couple of free chairs next to the piano and he squeezed through the crowd… unusual to be so busy for a Tuesday. Where did all these people come from, couldn’t they just have stayed at home so he and Adam could have had a nice quiet chat. Testy? Yes, he was feeling a little testy.
He squeezed into the seat jammed against the table and fortunately as he did so, the old man at the next table got up and he was able to move his chair so he had his back to the wall and could see what was going on.
“You tuck in nice and tight Mr. Scott, just off to point Percy at the porcelain,” the old man said, revealing a distinct lack of teeth, and tugged his cap at Mike.
Mike managed a weak half a smile… who was the old fool? One of his loyal readers no doubt… maybe he was the loyal reader… According to Mr. Bannister sales were going down, according to Mr. Bannister Mike was not pulling his weight, according to Mr. Bannister… well damn Mr. Bannister, damn his eyes! Mike took a sip of beer… hmmm, the mild was on the turn…
© Lois Elsden 2018
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