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Pendragon

I put the hours in.

When we moved into the flat, third floor with a balcony, we thought we’d be snug, like the old days but maybe not so drafty as the old place, not so exciting either truth be told, but my bones are getting old and I can’t remember the last time I sat astride a horse. Just as well.

Daft at my age.

We put the past behind us Jen and me, a long time ago, we moved on, we both had some forgiving to do, some forgetting, but it worked out ok. We’ve got this place, we work hard, pay the rent, put bread on the table; she cleans for a house up the west end, and I’ve got the cab. Sometimes we’ll sit and watch the TV and I’ll think, maybe I should be out there sorting things like I promised I would but instead I’ll get up and put on the kettle and maybe we’ll watch one of the old movies on Sky+ and have a bit of a laugh about the old days.

Jen is still beautiful. She never got fat, you know, and she never lost that sparkle, though there are days when she gets home after her cleaning and she looks a bit tired and I think wouldn’t it be great if just once, just one more time, I could sit her down at that big round table with the lads and have a merry old knees up.

We had a cat, but when it passed on three years ago I didn’t replace it. I prefer dogs, but the council won’t allow us to have one. The wifey upstairs has a bichon frise, a little white puffball thing, but to be honest, and I don’t mean to be unkind, I don’t really think of that as a proper dog: it can’t hunt, can’t stand guard, can’t fight. Can’t do much at all.

Bit like me, I suppose, nowadays.

I’ve got still got the cab of course and that’ll always bring in a wage, though if my eyes get any worse they say I won’t be able to renew my license. That’s a worry.

paper-1100254_960_720Jen reads a lot: romantic stuff mainly as you’d probably imagine, plus some historical fiction. I buy her books from Amazon sometimes; she’ll get a little package through the post. Thinking about buying her a Kindle.

I used to have a sword, you know.

Forgotten its name.

So sharp it could slice glass, I remember that; never lost its edge. But it got lost somewhere. When we moved, the council said I had to store stuff or get rid, couldn’t fit it all in the flat, so I put it all in storage: the ledgers, the old furniture, an old pewter mug that Lance and the boys dredged up for me from god-knows-where, even the letters I got from Mel, back when I was a boy and learning to read and write.

I’ve got a couple of bundles of them letters, all the advice he used to give me and stuff. Everything is in storage now. I’ll dig it all out one of these days, when I really need it.

Just waiting for the call.

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