Chapter Twenty-Four (Tripods, at last)

The cameras are ready, they are set up side by side on tripods that are exactly the same, they are pointing in the same direction, Phil has a flask of coffee, he is happy.

For him the best bit of Pulp Fiction is when Quentin Tarantino, well his character in the movie anyway, espouses the need to buy good coffee slating his wife for buying bad coffee when she goes shopping. Paula only bought coffee once. It wasn’t good. She hasn’t heard the last of it that’s for sure. She will never buy coffee again. Or biscuits.

Phil had biscuits with him too. Sorry, forgot to mention that. They were actually Tesco’s own brand bourbons which he tolerated sometimes but would have kicked up a right stink if Paula had bought them for him. The one time she had bought biscuits for him they hadn’t been a supermarket own brand, they had been in a speciality shop and about ten times the price of the biscuits Phil was currently surging his way through. They hadn’t been right though.

All of a sudden (!) the packet was empty, as was the flask and Phil desperately needed to pee. About half a mile from home, by a busy main road and a mile from the nearest public toilets. But right by the park.

Now taking one’s bits out in a public park can be fraught with risk but when you stand two cameras on tripods nearby the risk factor goes up considerably.

Consequently, two hours later Paula had to call by the police station to collect her husband who was, again (what, you thought this was the first time there’d been a misunderstanding??), let off with a warning and told not to be so stupid again.

‘Well that wasn’t too bad.’ said Phil as Paula pulled away from the kerb.

‘Not for you anyway.’

‘What could I do? I needed to pee. It wasn’t my fault a little kid came running into the bushes to get his football.’

‘No, true, that wasn’t your fault.’



‘But what else did you do? What did you say when said little kid asked what you were doing in the bushes?’


‘Ah indeed! Did you not think that a little kid running back to his Mum in terror saying there was a man in the bushes photographing his python might be a bad thing?’


‘Honestly, you really don’t get any better. You don’t think AT ALL!’

‘Actually I did think.’

‘Really? Did you really?’

‘Yes, I was going to say that my pee was venom shooting out and the kid should stay well back.’


‘See.’ Phil said smugly.

And yet again (even only this far into this book) Paula shook her head in despair.

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About the author

Fresh from failing to be an actor, a singer and retaining a full head of hair Glyn is now attempting to be a photographer and a novelist. He has taken more pictures today than he has written words of his novel in the last six months. Some of them he regards as okay..

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