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To celebrate my baby step into a car park, Solicitor and I went down to the local pub. Life is business as usual. The riots seem to be over in the Capital, and as Stoner points out, anything that happens outside London means very little to Londoners. We watch the news, have a little complain about it and carry on. Awful I know.

Our local pub is owned by an Indian family, so as well as a great selection of the usual alcohol, there’s a fantastic menu of snacks.

We ordered ourselves a mixed grill; chicken tikka on skewers, spiced lamb shops, sheek kebab, grilled tiger prawn, with mint yogurt sauce and salad, and a glass or red wine (for me) and a pint of Carlsberg (for him)

Gordon, another local, raised up his hand that held an old Zippo: “You got a light?” He called.

Gordon’s a nice guy. He’s near 60 and he’s lived in the area all his life. He’s seen his local change from being a seedy smoke-filled pub with dogs running about, to the skin head pub, to the nice contemporary pub that it is now.

He’s always had the table by the door. Since 1964. The owners changed. The decor changed. But over the years Gordon remained the same.

Solicitor raised his hand back. The first time Solicitor and I spoke to Gordon was when Gordon asked us for a lighter. I noticed the old Zippo on the table in front of him and said “You’ve got one.” Gordon laughed and said “Yep I do. Just cos I asked you for one, don’t mean I ain’t got one me self.”

From then on, every time we see him he raises his Zippo and shouts out “you got a light?”

Anyway, Solicitor and I settled at our usual table and smiled at each other like daft idiots.

“You look so happy.” He said with a grin.

“I am.” I beamed back.

He studied me seriously and nodded.

“You’re ok.”

“I know!” I exclaimed. “I’m seriously ok!” I took a deep gulp of my wine and continued as casually as I could “You know, I was thinking about what Avo said, and I was thinking that. Well you know.”

Solicitor broke into a huge grin. “Now?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not right now. I’m hungry. I want to finish the tikka first. And maybe have a few more of these.” I picked up my glass and swirled the liquid around. “But after that…”

He took a sip of his pint and shook his head. “Na, I don’t feel like it.” He said in a mock serious tone.



I shrugged. “Ok.”

I accidently-on-purpose brushed the bulge at his jeans as I placed my napkin on my lap and took another casual sip of my drink.

He’s dark eyes flashed mischievously.

Let the game begin! This could be a long long night….

Readers: If you feel like reading something naughty I can expand on the game? It’s totally up to you?