Paul Birtill

Last day

None of the teachers who taught us were around that final afternoon at Grammar school — probably frightened of being assaulted after giving us so much grief for five years, no more of that though. We sat around unsupervised, playing cards and smoking a bit and then it seemed so simple, so absurdly easy to

The Durable Postie

(For Karl)   He doesn’t even bother to change out of his uniform, just goes straight to the pub after his walk in his red jacket and stays till late evening. He’s usually drunk by the time I get there — drunk and loud, but always pleased to see you. He must get through a

Not Mister Jones!

My father was always arguing and falling out with people in the neighbourhood, but when he clashed with Mister Jones, our friendly, cheerful greengrocer, I remember my brother shouting in dismay, ‘Oh not Mister Jones as well!’