wRITeR’S
By JOHN ANTHONy
Then, ah…I remembered an the village. I’d just asked for a
incident, not long after we’d second hand tyre for my friend’s
Block?
moved to Spain. I was feeling kitchen.
pretty smug with the few words I’d obviously made his day
that I’d picked up. I called out to because he opened up just for
her, “What about the time I took us. But these things happen.
Chris for that second-hand tyre?” I remember standing at a
“Too long”, she called back. I’d supermarket checkout with
taken a friend over to La Xara. my father in law. I assume his
He was going to the airport that intention was to impress the
L
ast week, as Suzanna was leaving our office
afternoon to pick up his elderly young girl with his linguistic
she said, (almost under her breath and mother, so after a few glasses skills. He wanted to point out
showing a certain amount of impatience at
of wine I saw him to his car. that the bill was cheap. “Esta es
my constant tapping away at the keyboard) “Don’t
“You’re not going in that, that muy borracho”, of course that
back tyre is bald, not to mention should have been “barato”.
you ever run out of things to write about?” With
flat”. This was long ago when Cheap, not drunk. What had
that, she disappeared to the next room. Could this
even the police were more than Suzanna said, too long, eh? I
be a dig or a challenge? My mind raced. I sat and aware of the minefield of paper called out to her again, “What
thought. I was shocked into a moment of concern,
work involved for the pettiest of about that time I played at
me, run out of things to write about?
crimes. They only breathalysed the Mexican restaurant here
in the direst of cases, and then, in Jalón and did the entire gig
if positive, they’d usually insist wearing odd shoes. Then to
that your car stayed by the avoid embarrassment I had to
roadside and they gave you a convince the audience that I’d
lift home. It was that same year got an identical pair at home?”
a girlfriend of ours was stopped “Old joke”, she replied. Maybe
on the N2 and asked by a so, but unfortunately true. Now I
policeman to “blow into this”. was starting to lose confidence,
She pretended not to understand what if my powers of imagination
and sucked. “No, no, no”, said were deserting me? I’d always
the officer, “you do it like this”. been able to see a funny story in
He took the breathalyser from everything…right up until now,
her, demonstrated how to blow in that was.
to the bag and it promptly turned Paranoia was creeping in.
positive. Practically speechless Could I be going insane? My
he stammered, “Off you go”. So, mind immediately jumped on to
off she went, and so did he. another plane. I remembered
But I digress. La Xara has what the story about an inmate of a
can only be described as a good mental asylum. He was telling
old-fashioned junkyard. They his doctor that God had told him
have everything from second- he was Napoleon, then a voice
hand tyres, complete wheels, from the next room boomed out,
down to the smallest of parts “No, I didn’t”. Streaks of illogic
for cars, doors, windows, old TV were now zigzagging through my
aerials, fridges; a great place. As head. Thoughts of “what did man
we pulled up outside, the village go back to before he invented
church chimed 1.0pm and the drawing board?” What was
the owner was just putting the she going on about? I could
chains around the double gates. turn anything in to a few mildly
Time for my newly acquired entertaining lines. I decided to
but untested and unpractised give in and angrily shouted out,
words of Español to come in to “And I suppose you never run
play, “Señor. Tiene un segundo out of dance steps?” Silence. I’d
mano neumático para mi amigos made my point. Of course…then
cocina”. I swear his roaring there was that time when I…no,
laughter could be heard back in I’ll save it. Might run out of ideas.
16 viva magazine
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