A journey.


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‘It doesn’t look too promising’, she says. I think she means the day not her life. A woman shouts, ‘ ….tell Jim the weddin’s aff….’ and roars with laughter. Flocks of yellow cranes at the dockside in Methil. Paintwork bodyshops and hair salons. Bottle glass bay windows at the Buck and Hind, a nod to the time when the word ‘old’ ended in ‘e’. A girl on her phone says she’ll be late for her interview. She rolls another cigarette. A man in his allotment sits smoking a pipe. I think of my dad and the rolling of tobacco in the palms of his hands, of a photograph from the 1970’s of my suntanned, youthful parents. My mum is wearing a long red dress, my dad in a mustard three piece suit standing next to the new stereogram, smoking his pipe. A husband patiently explains the rules of sudoku to his wife. She asks ‘…..so why can’t I put a four there ?’ He explains again. ….’But why…..?’. She stops, loses interest and turns to look out of the window. She should have brought an umbrella.

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