Dick thoughtfully packed his trunk. Every assignment presented unique challenges and this case was no different. Predictably he would need clothes. But what sort he wondered. He checked the BBC five day forecast and packed some woolly sweaters. Glasgow was particularly cold this week.
Dick slammed his door and swooped his coat on his way out. He'd spent a good hour in the shop test driving coats to ensure the perfect swoop. Finally he had settled for an ex-navy great coat. He liked the epilettes.
The train journey gave him the opportunity to put his mind in order. He thought back to the can of lager, the sofa in his living room and the FA cup final and the phone call that made him miss the winner.
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2 comments:
Charming. Thoroughly charming. I hope that old D.K. finds his salvation in the end. For his name if nothing else. Bless ya thoroughly Paul m'lad, Paul m'guitarist.
I may have just noticed that this piece of work (which has a certain style of title) is the 100th post on PD.
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