Miss Shaw, please take a seat. I’m Bill Nixon…So you’ve filled in your new claim and you’ve stated that you walked out of your last employment. Is that correct?”
“You do realise that you may be sanctioned and won’t receive any benefit?”
“Well in your own words, could you tell me what happened.”
“What about you Dave, what’s the worst thing you’ve done?”
Here son, Haggis Supper.
“I want a kebab.”
Well fuck off to the kebab shop, I’ve told you, we only do suppers.
“Some fucking shop this is.”
Do you want anything else?
“Give me a packet of Gypsy Creams.”
I’ve ran out.
“Fuck this I’m going for a Chinky!”
Well off you fuck!
I was somewhere I had no business being, doing something that I shouldn’t, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
The coffee boat wasn’t a boat. It was a small building which sat harbour side and sold fast food. From Thursday through to Sunday it was bouncing from around midnight.
Well here we are at Week 257.
There’s been many a time when we’ve commented on an unsuccessful submission and stated that there was no emotion. Or that the emotion wasn’t strong enough. We’ve never once stated that the emotion was too over the top.
That realisation gave me the idea for today’s posting.
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.