Tag Archives: New Year

222. What’s that you say?

“But you’ve been selling me a National Express ticket to Birmingham every weekend for months!  Why not now?”

Mrs Travel-Centre  is of a certain age and traditional build.  Well, that’s not exactly how YoungLochinvar later describes her, but then he was speaking with the brutality of youth:  a youth, moreover, already cutting it fine to get his coach to Birmingham.

Continue reading →

Advertisements

139. Should auld acquaintance…?

“Is that someone at the door?” says GenialHostess. The hubbub dies down; then we hear the door being knocked.

It is RuggerMan, whose height and dark hair win him the annual honour of being shoved out into the cold on the stroke of midnight.

Continue reading →