Sandie’d rented a dvd on dhlawrence and wanted a dvd recorder to play it on. She asked me in the library. Sandie suits her own convenience but I wouldn’t’ve known Quentin to be published by him or, through Quentin, known Daniel to be published by him if Sandie hadn’t suited her own convenience in having me go to the original writers group in Langton’s, so I said yes. She asked Jan too. Jan couldn’t come the day arranged so that was changed to suit her convenience.

Jan brought a bottle of wine. I put on Priest of Love Sandie thought from the library dating stamp had been made a year before but it had Ava Gardner in it and John Gielguld, both dead. Jan and I perused the dvd cover. The film was made 1980.

What an unattractive character Lawrence was though everybody in the picture seemed to love him despite his tantrums. Jan and I didn’t, while conceding his bad behaviour didn’t invalidate his writing, though I think his pontificating in it does that. I agreed with him the English language had suffered from progressive refinement since Chaucer and that that needed to be redressed, fuck returning in the 60s and cunt recently. Diana, who was ranting outside as we watched the film, had used that word against me not so long ago.

At the end I made a rooibos for them and Jan was interested in buying the book with my poems in it, a copy of which I just happened to have about my person, peddling my ware with the line ‘I don’t like peddling my wares.’ In suiting their convenience I’d unbeknownst suited my own. It unexpectedly pleased me to have sold the book.

Long after they’d gone and I was settling down to watch tv, Diana buzzed to have me go out for cigarettes. I said I’d do it later. She buzzed again with a whole lot of emotional blackmail, like she’d ask Bob, the underhanded leaseholder. “Good idea,” I said. She buzzed again and again. She would commit suicide that night. I was encouraging. She hated Queen Elizabeth, Prince Charles and all the royal family. I had to laugh. She was on a new pill. “Your exigency is not an imperative,” I ended he harangue over the entryphone whose continual cut-offs she imputed to the authorities having it in for her and to Adrian Glover. I did not inconvenience myself to suit her convenience.


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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