A family function in the west of the country. Putting up at a farm cottage the night before. Into the nearest small town for a bite of supper. Fine, sturdy structures arranged neatly, all constructed with blocks of the same yellowish stone. "These people don't deserve these buildings," one of us observes, gaze travelling from the pleasing architecture to the lumpy faces of the local pub drinkers and street shouters.
After burnt pizza delivered at snail's pace to an unwiped table, we repair to a convenience store to get some basics. Waiting to pay, I stand behind the bald pate, tattooed neck and creepy leer of a middle-aged goon who slobbers a few intrusive remarks at the young blonde working the cash register. Thick foundation does not quite cover the acne bumps on her forehead and cheeks. Pale eyes, spaced wide apart, look on unhappily as her customer wonders what a "beautiful girl" like her is "doing working in a place like this on a Saturday night". She wills the transaction to be over, relieved when he gets out of there with his thirty quid's worth of scratch cards.
When we get outside, baldy is conversation with someone who sits ragged and cross-legged on the pavement. "It's all cider and crack around here," one of us mutters as we head back to the car.
After burnt pizza delivered at snail's pace to an unwiped table, we repair to a convenience store to get some basics. Waiting to pay, I stand behind the bald pate, tattooed neck and creepy leer of a middle-aged goon who slobbers a few intrusive remarks at the young blonde working the cash register. Thick foundation does not quite cover the acne bumps on her forehead and cheeks. Pale eyes, spaced wide apart, look on unhappily as her customer wonders what a "beautiful girl" like her is "doing working in a place like this on a Saturday night". She wills the transaction to be over, relieved when he gets out of there with his thirty quid's worth of scratch cards.
When we get outside, baldy is conversation with someone who sits ragged and cross-legged on the pavement. "It's all cider and crack around here," one of us mutters as we head back to the car.
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