I don’t know what to think. Mam says that being fired is what life is like; you get to liking something and then some other bugger takes it away from you. She were tryin’ to make us feel better, but thing is it din’t.
I know I ain’t smart, smart is our kid’s thing. Dunno where she gets it from, but there’s never any time t’ask ‘er when she breezes in for’t weekend from fancy London. Still I liked bein’ a plumber’s mate. Felt good to do sommat wi’ mi hands, pisses me off that teachers were right. There’s bloody maths in everythin’. Tom said it were n’owt personal, but he can’t afford the waste I’ve caused or some shit like that. I din’t mean to blow the pipe. ‘E says that copper is too costly to make ready and shape more than’t job needs.
I s’pose I can go back behind’t bar at’Bull, but Mam’s right, there’s n’ future in sellin’ scoops t’ drunks older’n Dad. S’not like I mean t’ judge, man’s got a right to a drink, but I’ll ne’er ger’out of ‘ere if all I am is a barman. For now, time for ‘nother beer I think.
This was written yesterday, but does not yet appear on ficlets.com due to a technical problem with that site and its OpenID login, i.e. I can’t get on the site, logged in.
This Ficlet was partly inspired by a suggestion / thought from Kt, but I am not sure that I have really done what she suggested…