Fast Fiction: Can You Imagine
Should he at his age have gone walking at night through the Dawling Estate, where muggings and knifings are commonplace?
Richard Mallinson tells a tale which begs the question.
'Can you imagine,’ he said, 'anyone being so stupid as to walk by themselves at night in that place - let alone a bloody geezer aged 72?'
The place to which the speaker referred was the Dawling Estate, where muggings and knifings are commonplace.
'And what happened to him? Another pint?'
'Thanks, and then I must be going. Well, the fact is that the silly old bugger came through without a scratch. He walked from one end to the other and nobody laid a finger on him. Cheers.'
'Cheers.'
At least, that's how I imagine the conversation went between Lester Fallon, now well into his third divorce, and his pal Fred Brigatte, a practised invalid.
They stand at the bar of the Apple And Pear every night, talking as if they know every bloody thing when in fact they know bugger all.
Still, I suppose I'd better join them, if only to put the record straight.
*
'Hullo, old chap,' says Lester, 'what are you having?'
'The usual,' I say, heaving myself onto a barstool.
'All well?' I say and Fred says, 'Yes, thanks. How are you?'
'I'm fine,' I say. 'Cheers.'
'Cheers,' say Lester and Fred.
'And what have you been up to recently?' asks Lester.
'Well,' I say, 'I went to visit my former wife the other night and walked back through the Dawling Estate.'
'You did what?' gasps Fred.
'It's more than I'd have done,' says Lester, 'and I'm nothing like your age.'
I look at Lester and then at Fred.
'Actually, I'm even older than you seem to think,' I say. 'I'm 76.'
