I have no friends but the words talk to me. They don’t say what I read, they say something else.
When I was young I read what I heard. I was diagnosed as being dyslexic but I ignored everyone and concentrated on listening to the words. I hid in that diagnosis for many years.
Sometimes the words make me smile, sometimes they make me cry but most of all they make me curious.
I first met Jim when I was working in a food bank. He came in to ask if he could get some food. He was reeking of Buckfast. I told him that he had to be referred.
He laughed, “Take your referral and your food bank and stick them right up, and I mean right up your fucking arse!”
“Someone once said that life prepares you for what it throws at you.
Man O’ fuck! That’s a very wise and comforting thought for coping.
Alan joined his sister.
“You OK Trish?”
“I’m getting there. I’m no good with this.”
“I know, you can’t handle a hamster dying never mind anything else.
‘It’s been many a year since we had a day like today! It was a lovely wedding. You looked beautiful. It was an absolute pleasure dancing with you.
“You’ve never told me why you and Chris split up?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, but you’re hurting.”
“Don’t say that mum, I’m not fucking hurting.”
“…Sounds like your fine.”
“I know you said that you didn’t want another drink but I’ve poured you one.”
Gina accepted the glass of wine.