Mike Hoban was sitting in the armchair of his apartment in Finchley, London. At his feet, Amanda Abraham, his girlfriend, was working on a quilt she’d started just before Christmas. Mike is reading “The World According to Garp”.
“Is that good?” Amanda asked without looking up.
“Very,” Mike replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever read anything like it.”
Continue reading
“Where the hell is he?” growled Mike, as Lenny’s phone pinged with a message.
“It’s ‘im, it’s Dave,” Lenny said, unlocking the screen. “Says Be there in a minute, had another commitment to deal with.”
“Another BLOODY commitment?” Mike yelled. “Who’s ‘e fink ‘e is?”
“Itchy,” moaned Two. He’d also been christened Dave, and the group didn’t have much imagination.
“Oh, bloody shut up,” Graham snapped. “Don’t you think we’ve got better things to worry about than your sodding skincare regime at the moment?”
Continue reading
“Oh no!” cried Sally as she stared at her television. The “Breaking News” bulletin from the Prime Minister was severe.
“STAY INDOORS.”
She had been following the progress of the invisible enemy, a previously unknown virus that was currently sweeping the country, but she had not expected to be in lockdown. She could feel the panic starting to rise in her chest.
“YOU MUST STAY INDOORS FOR AT LEAST THREE WEEKS, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, THIS WILL BE REVIEWED AT THE END OF THAT PERIOD.”
Sally went to check her food stocks. At least her freezer was full and she had quite a few canned goods. She would be able to survive.
Continue reading