She'd had
her routines. Louise would bring home two books per week from the library in
her green reusable shopping bag. She'd sit in the garden with her rose bushes,
reading and waiting for the pair of turtle doves to come eat from the cat's
bowl. And, then there were calls to grandkids on their mobiles, and their tales
of Ibiza clubs and ancient pyramids. But, ever since Vince retired from the
pharmacy, and hung about like a shag on a rock, her routine was wrecked. She'd
have to stow a sneaky book in her purple fleece jacket, and bushwalk down to
where the local high school-kids brought their Cruisers and chop-chop fags.
No comments:
Post a Comment