A Made-up John

My made-up John, as my Australian ex-sister-in-law believes (and could be right), is …well, he was upset at the the thought he wouldn’t see as much of me if he found work, in a restaurant or in construction, and had a bolthole. I find it hard to believe anybody could be upset at seeing less of me but there it is. I pointed out if he was working my money would last longer – I call him the drain on my resources. He counters my money would last longer if Yvann weren’t also a drain on it. I recounter, Yvann at £32.20 debt is nothing compared to his, “How much is it now? Thousands?” Apparently not thousands – and he needs somehwere adjacent to work because he won’t always be energetic enough to come back here, which he can always do, every night, it’s not far. It’s a bolthole. It makes him less likely to be found and me less likely to be found out for harbouring him, if I pass him off as a visiting boyfriend, not that I have any anticipation I will be found out and incarcerated but one should not take unnecessary risks when one is honest and doesn’t lie while consorting, as I have to admit I always have, with criminal elements. I write! How else do I, straight myself, acquire interesting content if not by inclining towards the bent. In any case the situation is of his making as a result of his unilateral decisions for himself and he could quite easily spontaneously make one such other that’d land him and me in the potage. There’s many a slip… and many the opportunity to slip up tapsalteerie, feet over head and all that.

It is looking good.

He was in bed all day, at death’s door, with a cold. He recovered sufficiently to want to go out late and with another £5 to add to the one he hadn’t spent day before off he went for tobacco and a trip to Hammersmith where he met up with his mamesake or rather the man whose name he’ll give by agreement on any encounter with police for their initial check. While he was away, Yvann buzzed without appearing at the door. Leslie passing asked had I been buzzed. Yes, by Yvann, probably to be let in as he often does. On my going out again I spied John other side wall. He came in, having just missed being seen by Leslie. Yvann buzzed again to come up. “Somebody’s with me.” “John?” “Yes.” “All right, mate.” Finally, “What’re you doing?” “Taking out the rubbish,” for collection next day. “Actually I’m going down to see my young lover.”

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About johnbrucecairns

I'm a retired history teacher who's written for most of his life with a book readied for publication.
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