central line early morning

An Australian woman, hair curly, reddish,
Sits next to an African man who looks older
Than she does. She coaches him in the art of
Closing the sale. Explains how, once the direct
Debit has been agreed, he needs to cut to the chase.
He takes out a notebook to ensure he's got it all
Down. She glances at some figures on a page.
Asks, shocked: 'Is that how much you owe?' He
Looks sheepish. 'You have to pay twelve thousand
In a year?' He explains the details of his father's
Debt. She says it's a lot. He looks like a lost
Sheep being reminded he's lost. His arm, it
Is noted, is placed behind her, across her seat.
Neither betraying an intimacy, nor denying
The possibility of an intimacy. They get off at
Loughton, carrying London Energy backpacks.

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south london stories #19901

I go round to visit my friends who live in Herne Hill.

There's a freezer in the hallway.

The freezer is full of clothes. I think I spy a handbag there as well.

Later my friend has to locate his suit.

He needs it because he's going to be a vodka-distributing, confession-taking priest between the hours of 10pm and 2am.

He goes to the kitchen and starts throwing plastic bags out of the freezer section of his fridge-freezer.

Finally he finds the suit.

He takes it out and places it on a wooden chair to defrost.

It's chilled and has a texture like paper, not cloth.

We go to the pub. At half nine he will come back and put the suit on. It will have defrosted somewhat, but still be at a sub-normal suit-wearing temperature.

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