Cafe, Roman Road. February 12th.

The chairs creak as the builders sit down. One twists his heat back making thick ripples on his neck. He and asks if I am local. I say I am. I’ve lived on this road for a year. I can be a local.

He asks where the Pie and Mash shop is. I know this.

“Oh it’s shut down - “

“They’re doing it up…” A voice from behind. An old man sitting by the counter. I’ve been usurped as ‘the local’. “…Should be open again soon.”

The builder mumbles that it’s daft to shut it down even if for a while. The others nod. He turns back and picks up a squashed sandwich. .

The old man has tobacco-tinted glasses and stiff hair brushed from the back of his head right to the front. He’s eating a pink wobbly fried egg, beans, and bacon.

“…She’s around.” He says to the waitress behind the counter. “We broke up for a bit. She went back to Australia cos she’s got kids there. Then that all went wrong on her. She came back so I had ‘er back. She’s very good looking you know, young.”

“How young?” asks the waitress.

“She’s 56. I got a toy girl.”

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