The trains have been late for the past three mornings, a client threatened to ’have’ me and meeting up with Marion was an utter disaster.
Met her in the Elf and Strangers, a quaint little pub serving real ale by St Annes station. I was fifteen minutes early, so as not to miss her.
Thirty minutes and a pint of Cocksmith’s Bottom later (keeping in mind I had only budgeted for two drinks) she finally rolled up. Roll being the operative word as she obviously was a fan of creamy puddings and had her fingers firmly in the biscuit tin, if you know what I mean. More alarming was her taste in clothes. She was wearing a tight purple sweater over a floral tea dress with garish coloured tights and sludge brown boots.
We lightly bantered for about twenty minutes when suddenly she made an excuse to go to the toilet. Fourty five minutes later and she still hadn’t returned. I checked the ladie's loos and it became apparent she had done a slow shuffle out. I had just bought her a sweet sherry too and they refused to refund me at the bar. The cheek!
£5.77 out of pocket I ambled home only to be accosted by the irate chap from earlier in the day. Thankfully he was three sheets to the wind and weaving like a bobbin on a loom.
Tomorrow beckons...
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