When I was a child my teachers used to complain that I was always 'telling stories': that I had done this and that and I usually had. The writer in me was crowded in at school and only escaped in the letters I wrote to my absent mother — something we did until the week she died, a few days before her 86th birthday.
They weren't all sweet and lovely, my politics and her behaviour saw to that, but I never feel happier than when I have a fountain pen in hand and a spiral A5 pad before me and, as if by magic, the former begins to write upon the latter and what I see before me I didn’t know until I see it there, for that is how I write.
I suspect is goes back to those childhood days when telling stories usually got me out of trouble. I'm sure my love of buses comes from overheard conversations when alone, aged 4, I began to visit my mother. Put on a bus, penny in hand, and met the other end. I used to count the stops. 23 on way, 21 the other. Strange that. Still I listen, rarely seeing faces. Those talking are either backs of heads or nostrils breathing down my neck, Sitting sideways isn’t much better, unless they are opposite.
Now my stories are for me, to give my mind a better place to live in these dark times and if you want to come along please do.
Robert Howard
Monday 2 September 2019
Beeston Week… from today A Quiet Place
MILL CAFÉ 1
Roland paid a premium for his table in the Mill Café. A three seater in the window from where he could watch the world go by.
Kay guessed right when she figured that she could charge more if she made her café a little posher. Carpet, decent tables, crockery, flowers, that kind of thing. Oh, and no music. Plus the lighting of course. What she hadn't expected was a bonus, which came in the form of Scott Pearson, who came in and asked if he could rent it evenings to run as a diner. She was already doing Sunday brunch so she wasn't too sure at first, then she thought 'Why not?' and it turned out to be a good decision.
Roland, a retired man in his sixties, came in at 9 o'clock three mornings a week, ordered a black Americano and a portion of chips, got out his notebook and began to write. He had three coffees and left with a plain Stilton cheese baguette. Sometimes a woman about his age joined him for an hour or so. It was always a de-caff skinny latte and a cinnamon bun. Roland would have one too. When the woman left she always kissed the top of his head and held out a hand, which he kissed. Whatever the weather, once outside the woman would stand in front of the window and give a little wave, which Roland returned.
Roland and Kay quickly exchanged names and he had wished her well — the first customer to do so and she liked him for that.
To continue go to Cedricburgh
Roland paid a premium for his table in the Mill Café. A three seater in the window from where he could watch the world go by.
Kay guessed right when she figured that she could charge more if she made her café a little posher. Carpet, decent tables, crockery, flowers, that kind of thing. Oh, and no music. Plus the lighting of course. What she hadn't expected was a bonus, which came in the form of Scott Pearson, who came in and asked if he could rent it evenings to run as a diner. She was already doing Sunday brunch so she wasn't too sure at first, then she thought 'Why not?' and it turned out to be a good decision.
Roland, a retired man in his sixties, came in at 9 o'clock three mornings a week, ordered a black Americano and a portion of chips, got out his notebook and began to write. He had three coffees and left with a plain Stilton cheese baguette. Sometimes a woman about his age joined him for an hour or so. It was always a de-caff skinny latte and a cinnamon bun. Roland would have one too. When the woman left she always kissed the top of his head and held out a hand, which he kissed. Whatever the weather, once outside the woman would stand in front of the window and give a little wave, which Roland returned.
Roland and Kay quickly exchanged names and he had wished her well — the first customer to do so and she liked him for that.
To continue go to Cedricburgh
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