Lizzy cleaned her glasses to the guitar riffs in Lynrd Skynrd’s Sweet Home Alabama. She’d just heard that Simon had been found dead at home. She’d vacuum the carpets next.
Simon was a loner and she guessed Lockdown had been a bad time for them. He could be a proper arsehole sometimes, but she was secretly glad he and his irritating ilk still got breathing space in this cruel world.
Lizzy called Carole and she said more or less the same thing, but he was small, which somehow made him less of a twat. Then they talked about tweezers.
More drabbles here.
Published by Billy Mann
I'm originally from Liverpool and worked as a national magazine journalist for more than 30 years before suffering a stroke at age 53. I started blogging as part of a neuro-rehabilitation programme and wrote the very first entries with one finger of my disabled left hand. Later, art became another therapy for me at Headway East London's Submit To Love Studios. I write about my daily activities and encounters. In 1988, I married Jane. We are still together today, sharing our lives and making each other laugh.
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