The Tamagotchi Guardian
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Baines – Part 2
Here is Part 1
‘Is this 79?’ he asked staring right at me. I turned around and looked at my wood stained door knocker. The words ‘seventy nine’ were engraved into it. I wheeled around again and replied, ‘Yes, what do you want?’ The man looked at his tatty clipboard, read a few words and replied,
‘Have you moved your stuff yet?’ At first I thought it was a joke, I smirked politely but when he didn’t smile back, I realised he was being dead serious. He stared at me waiting for an answer. ‘What do you mean, moved my stuff?’ I questioned.
‘Moved your stuff, ya moving,’ he added in his cockney accent. I thought I was dreaming but after drinking the cup of tea that I had laid on the bonnet of my car and burning my tongue, I discovered I wasn’t. I wanted to scream ‘I’M NOT MOVING!’ at him but then he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I was in a bad enough mood today already. There was frost everywhere, including on my car so I was forced to de-ice, I had to leave at 6.30am for a job interview (it was 6.15am) and I’d just been told that my dad was in hospital because he had run away from my sister’s new year’s party. My sensible self (not really) responded in a calm and controlled way.
‘I’m not moving’ He frowned as thick men do before looking at his clipboard, at me, his clipboard, at me.
‘But Baines is movin’ in tomorrow. This is his removal van. I fought you’d be gone. Infact, I di’nt know no-one was ‘ere’ Leaving the man standing on the pavement, I rushed inside and checked my face to see if I was sober. I was. Slowing walking, checking my body to see if I had a sudden transformation or if I was Steven Albright, the man I was sure I was yesterday. I was. Through my dirty, double glazed windows I saw the removal man enquiring with the neighbours. At least I knew they’d prove to him that I lived here, always have and probably always will. As I returned outside just avoiding crashing into the door, the removal man (who told me his name was Harry) said,
‘This ‘ouse has been unoccupied for years, tha’s what ya next door mates say’ I was fed up of explaining to this man and also fed up of trying to understand what he was talking about as he wouldn’t stop talking in that annoying cockney accent.
Here is Part 1
‘Is this 79?’ he asked staring right at me. I turned around and looked at my wood stained door knocker. The words ‘seventy nine’ were engraved into it. I wheeled around again and replied, ‘Yes, what do you want?’ The man looked at his tatty clipboard, read a few words and replied,
‘Have you moved your stuff yet?’ At first I thought it was a joke, I smirked politely but when he didn’t smile back, I realised he was being dead serious. He stared at me waiting for an answer. ‘What do you mean, moved my stuff?’ I questioned.
‘Moved your stuff, ya moving,’ he added in his cockney accent. I thought I was dreaming but after drinking the cup of tea that I had laid on the bonnet of my car and burning my tongue, I discovered I wasn’t. I wanted to scream ‘I’M NOT MOVING!’ at him but then he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I was in a bad enough mood today already. There was frost everywhere, including on my car so I was forced to de-ice, I had to leave at 6.30am for a job interview (it was 6.15am) and I’d just been told that my dad was in hospital because he had run away from my sister’s new year’s party. My sensible self (not really) responded in a calm and controlled way.
‘I’m not moving’ He frowned as thick men do before looking at his clipboard, at me, his clipboard, at me.
‘But Baines is movin’ in tomorrow. This is his removal van. I fought you’d be gone. Infact, I di’nt know no-one was ‘ere’ Leaving the man standing on the pavement, I rushed inside and checked my face to see if I was sober. I was. Slowing walking, checking my body to see if I had a sudden transformation or if I was Steven Albright, the man I was sure I was yesterday. I was. Through my dirty, double glazed windows I saw the removal man enquiring with the neighbours. At least I knew they’d prove to him that I lived here, always have and probably always will. As I returned outside just avoiding crashing into the door, the removal man (who told me his name was Harry) said,
‘This ‘ouse has been unoccupied for years, tha’s what ya next door mates say’ I was fed up of explaining to this man and also fed up of trying to understand what he was talking about as he wouldn’t stop talking in that annoying cockney accent.
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