Between My Father And the King
“Do you remember the night he retired from the railway? The thirty-nine-piece dinner service: ‘For you and your wife with best wishes for a happy retirement.’ The thank you and the muffled remarks and the dither of the man who housed his personality on one track, who shunted his life back and forth over rusty rails by sleepers overgrown with dock and dandelion, past cattlestops and flag stations and the red blistered houses with the women waving from the clothesline and the children throwing sto...nes?
You say you don’t know the cause of Gregory’s death? You would laugh if I told you the cause was a gravy boat.
At 9 p.m. five weeks ago, Gregory retired. He received his dinner service, coughed his smoker’s cough, and would have liked to spit except that it wasn’t form, and sank deeper into the luxurious plush chair reserved for the guest of honour; sank as a snail would sink into a new shell that offered protection yet no patterned and worn familiarity. Mrs Firman hadn’t come.MoreLess
You say you don’t know the cause of Gregory’s death? You would laugh if I told you the cause was a gravy boat.
At 9 p.m. five weeks ago, Gregory retired. He received his dinner service, coughed his smoker’s cough, and would have liked to spit except that it wasn’t form, and sank deeper into the luxurious plush chair reserved for the guest of honour; sank as a snail would sink into a new shell that offered protection yet no patterned and worn familiarity. Mrs Firman hadn’t come.MoreLess
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