A man sits gazing out of a long window as he has many times before. The lawns in front of him are manicured and watered to within an inch of their lives. There is an empty chair set next to his and something suggests that it has been occupied convivially many times before. The comfort of the chairs, their proximity and relative angle suggests regular use even if the fabric and stuffing do not.
The door to the room opens without the formality of a knock and a small woman heads for the occupant of the chair in a business like manner but without haste. The size of the room gives the man ample time to rise and put on a warm and generally welcoming smile. The woman does not extend her hand but addresses the man in a clipt and slightly tremulous voice.
I suppose I should call you Mr Chuckles. How is Ian by the way?
Big Ian is fine, preparing himself for the final shock when he discovers that Jesus is a Catholic, just like the Pope! I'll call you Brenda rather than Mam, unless you wold prefer the Gaelic?The twinkle in her eye and the gear change in his smile suggest that ice has been broken.
They shake hands and Mr Chuckles offers a drink. Brenda suggests a Dubonnet with a little stiffner.
She takes the second seat and a large glass is offered. Mr Chuckles pours himself another cup of tea and joins her.
They sit in almost companionable silence. The man askes her if she has travelled far. She snorts in genuine amusement.
Oh yes Mr Chuckles, I have come a long way!
