‘Finished that People
Skills this week.’
‘What did you think?’ Felix asked him.
‘Yeah, pretty good. I could see how it works – finding the point
of optimisation.’
‘Good. Put it into practice,’ Felix said.
Boris had switched into management mode. I looked at Sam to see
if he was finding this as nauseating as I was.
‘Starting,’ Sam said. The men turned towards the wide-screen
T.V. in a high corner.
‘Sam’s team are playing,’ Boris explained. ‘For some reason he
can’t help supporting a team with a disposition for losing. It’s a shame really.’
‘Have you seen the table, mate?’ Sam said. ‘We’re three points
ahead of you.’
‘That’s different, mate. I’m supporting my home team.’
‘So, will they lose?’ Felix asked.
‘Probably,’ Sam muttered. ‘Only because we
can’t afford to buy decent players anymore.’
He said ‘buy’ like it was a dirty word. I had heard the argument
before.
‘I have to get going,’ I finished my glass of wine.
‘Thought you were out for the night,’ Boris said.
‘No, no. I have to be somewhere actually,’ I lied and squeezed
my way through the rows of men facing the T.V.
I could see light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a clean
spot I had made on the cooker. But, it was obvious from the layers of dirt that
the kitchen hadn’t been cleaned in years. There were even dark clouds of dirt creeping
up the windows.
Thoughts of work kept startling me like disturbing an insect.
I just wanted the meeting with Felix Stern to be over with. What would he say? Until
now I had a good reputation... Everyone makes mistakes... At least now they’d have
to pay attention to our lack of training. I went through the kitchen presses and
stuffed all the gaps at the back with cardboard. People said there were mice everywhere
in London but I hadn’t seen one yet. I found a hole in the floor of one cabinet
and put cardboard over it, sealing it with masking tape.
There was a small park at the end of my road. I crossed it at
least twice a day. On week days over to the tube and on weekends
over to the main street into the market swarm. The market continued to the
edge of the City and spilled onto small side-streets along the way. I found a DIY
store behind a row of suitcase stalls and under the heady influence of a DIY fantasy,
bought a drill, pliers, sandpaper and goggles.
When I got back to the flat I stood on a chair in the kitchen
and braced myself for what I would find on top of the cabinets. I was expecting
a thick layer of dust, maybe some discarded rubbish, at worse, a dead mouse. Picture
frames, scuffed and broken lay on top of each other. Careful of the nails sticking
out I lifted them down and laid them on the floor. They reminded me of wooden tennis
racket frames. I thought back to when I was a child screwing the corners tight so
my racket wouldn’t get warped. I could smell varnish but it was just my imagination.
The wood was rough, scratched. Faint streams of silver and gold ran through. I took
my hammer out of its packet and carefully tapped the nails back into place. These
would suit old-fashioned pictures, I thought. I could imagine family holidays with
women in modest swimwear and children in sailor outfits. I tried to remember what
family photos I had on my laptop. Maybe there were some holiday ones I could reprint
with a faded, rough-grain effect. I could easily get glass to fit at a frame store.
As dusk came I stood back and reviewed my progress. I could consider
eating here now, I thought with a nod. I returned to the living room where my laptop
had taken up residence on the floor and checked my messages. Nothing
new. I poured a glass of wine and began to explore my local take away options.
Hunger suddenly hit me and my mouth watered at the sight of a deep-pan pepperoni
pizza with spicy beef. I ordered it with extra cheese.
Waiting for the food to arrive, I walked about each room listening
to the creaks made by my
Skills this week.’
‘What did you think?’ Felix asked him.
‘Yeah, pretty good. I could see how it works – finding the point
of optimisation.’
‘Good. Put it into practice,’ Felix said.
Boris had switched into management mode. I looked at Sam to see
if he was finding this as nauseating as I was.
‘Starting,’ Sam said. The men turned towards the wide-screen
T.V. in a high corner.
‘Sam’s team are playing,’ Boris explained. ‘For some reason he
can’t help supporting a team with a disposition for losing. It’s a shame really.’
‘Have you seen the table, mate?’ Sam said. ‘We’re three points
ahead of you.’
‘That’s different, mate. I’m supporting my home team.’
‘So, will they lose?’ Felix asked.
‘Probably,’ Sam muttered. ‘Only because we
can’t afford to buy decent players anymore.’
He said ‘buy’ like it was a dirty word. I had heard the argument
before.
‘I have to get going,’ I finished my glass of wine.
‘Thought you were out for the night,’ Boris said.
‘No, no. I have to be somewhere actually,’ I lied and squeezed
my way through the rows of men facing the T.V.
I could see light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a clean
spot I had made on the cooker. But, it was obvious from the layers of dirt that
the kitchen hadn’t been cleaned in years. There were even dark clouds of dirt creeping
up the windows.
Thoughts of work kept startling me like disturbing an insect.
I just wanted the meeting with Felix Stern to be over with. What would he say? Until
now I had a good reputation... Everyone makes mistakes... At least now they’d have
to pay attention to our lack of training. I went through the kitchen presses and
stuffed all the gaps at the back with cardboard. People said there were mice everywhere
in London but I hadn’t seen one yet. I found a hole in the floor of one cabinet
and put cardboard over it, sealing it with masking tape.
There was a small park at the end of my road. I crossed it at
least twice a day. On week days over to the tube and on weekends
over to the main street into the market swarm. The market continued to the
edge of the City and spilled onto small side-streets along the way. I found a DIY
store behind a row of suitcase stalls and under the heady influence of a DIY fantasy,
bought a drill, pliers, sandpaper and goggles.
When I got back to the flat I stood on a chair in the kitchen
and braced myself for what I would find on top of the cabinets. I was expecting
a thick layer of dust, maybe some discarded rubbish, at worse, a dead mouse. Picture
frames, scuffed and broken lay on top of each other. Careful of the nails sticking
out I lifted them down and laid them on the floor. They reminded me of wooden tennis
racket frames. I thought back to when I was a child screwing the corners tight so
my racket wouldn’t get warped. I could smell varnish but it was just my imagination.
The wood was rough, scratched. Faint streams of silver and gold ran through. I took
my hammer out of its packet and carefully tapped the nails back into place. These
would suit old-fashioned pictures, I thought. I could imagine family holidays with
women in modest swimwear and children in sailor outfits. I tried to remember what
family photos I had on my laptop. Maybe there were some holiday ones I could reprint
with a faded, rough-grain effect. I could easily get glass to fit at a frame store.
As dusk came I stood back and reviewed my progress. I could consider
eating here now, I thought with a nod. I returned to the living room where my laptop
had taken up residence on the floor and checked my messages. Nothing
new. I poured a glass of wine and began to explore my local take away options.
Hunger suddenly hit me and my mouth watered at the sight of a deep-pan pepperoni
pizza with spicy beef. I ordered it with extra cheese.
Waiting for the food to arrive, I walked about each room listening
to the creaks made by my
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