TWO FOURS

On the way down Four got in the lift and said, ‘Hello, young man,’ which is why I like him, or appreciate him, these small replenishing moments of illusion.
‘Alright?’ I said in Bristolian.
‘Cor,’ he said, ‘blimey, this weather.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘It’s like you don’t know what to wear.’
‘I know,’ he said and pulled at his top. ‘I put a shirt on under this because I thought it was cold and of course it isn’t so I end up sweating like a pig.’
‘Like the filth, you mean?’ I said.
We laughed.
On my way back as I came down the slope runs to the front door from the alleyway up from the Bell, Four was getting out of the car his sister/girlfriend/both ferries him around in. He got to the door before me and I held it after he pulled it open.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said. ‘Twice in one day, aren’t I the lucky one?’
‘My pleasure,’ I said, smiling.
‘Been shopping?’ I said.
‘I’ve just been to Tesco’s,’ he said, ‘and I got outside and I was desperate for the loo.’
‘Oh yeh?’ I said.
‘It’s drinking all the water,’ he said. ‘It’s worse than when I was on the beer but I got to keep drinking it because I’m training and I got to keep hydrated.’
‘Things change as you, we, start getting older,’ I said.
‘Tell me about,’ he said, but I didn’t think I had to.