Sunday, 12 October 2014

4 Years In London





Tony and me are in our mid-forties, but we were acting like a pair of brainless teenagers. That's no way for a grown man to act, and that's no way to live. I suppose he's jealous of Jill, because she has driven a wedge between him and me. And now I have a comfortable life, in Jill's tower block home, whilst he has our flat all to himself, and nobody to speak to. I think Jill would like me to detest Tony, but just because he was a bad influence on me, and was happy to see me ruin my life, that's no reason to hate the man. After all, I'm an adult, and I'm as much to blame as Tony if my life was going off the rails...

... By the time I made it to the factory I was drenched, with the grey London sky having shown no mercy to a poor man who was looking for a job, and who wanted to make something of his life – if working in a biscuit factory could help me achieve my wish. I looked at my shoes. They were caked in mud and grass, and looked nothing like the well-polished footwear I had been wearing when I had left home. My trousers were equally dirty, and my white shirt looked like I had dragged it through the rainy streets that had eventually brought me to the factory gates. I was cold and uncomfortable, and as the wind decided to batter me sideways, I took shelter from the weather under a tree, which stood all alone at the entrance to the factory, and looked out of place. I looked around me. It WAS the only tree to be seen on the industrial estate where the factory was located, and it brought some much-needed colour to an otherwise very grey and dull place, which up to that point I had never seen before...

...I didn't shower. I felt too depressed and tired to bother with such a trivial chore. Instead I smoked a cigarette and drank two cups of coffee. In the fridge were cheese sandwiches and a slice of apple pie that Jill had wrapped in plastic film, ready for me to take to work, so that I would have something to eat, at what she had jokingly referred to as half-time. I took my lunch from the fridge and sniffed. Fucking cheese sandwiches. That's what my life had become. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was four o'clock. It was time to go. I felt ill and wanted to empty my bowels on the kitchen floor. I wanted to go back to bed. I wanted to watch the television. I wanted to fuck Jill. I wanted to do many things – except go to work.


Extracts taken from "4 years in London" - an ebook for kindle by Luke Ryman

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