IT’S THE PHOTOGRAPHS

‘Did we survive the weekend?’ I said as we stood on the corner by the Spar on our way home from the Chelsea and Easton Art Trail. He was in the off licence buying a few bottles of beer.
‘You know how much they are in the Spar?’ he’d said. ‘One sixty-nine. That’s twenty pence more than Jim’s.’
‘That’s a lot,’ I said. ‘Still cheaper than the pub though.’
‘But I’m not in the pub.’
‘A man in the pub asked me if I was the Stokes Croftian,’ I said.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said, “yes,” and asked him how he knew and he said, “it’s the photographs.”’