Running in the Mist

By Gerard Thistleton

There's the Irish King, wily drinkers at a country pub, a couple of lawyers, one sinking below too good a well oiled lunch, another ascending fire stairs to smoke gunpowder and a man wandering in the after life.

These tales are the product of an untidy mind loose with the delights of the English language determined to ambush readers with the twist at the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerard Thistleton
• Release date: Oct 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301676644

Gerard Thistleton

Gerard Thistleton tells lies, always has. He loves his wife, sons and daughter, a lunatic dog and five horses variously lame. No cats own him. He also likes good wine of any colour and loafing in his slippers. A mortgagee bank and a posse of creditors spoil the peace and quiet of an otherwise benign existence.

Book preview

Running in the Mist

A collection of short stories

Published by Gerard Thistleton at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Gerard Thistleton

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Für Tanya und Innes

Danke für alles

Contents

Running in the Mist

Dejeuner

Gunpowder

Loss of Blood

Dermot O’Toole’s Vocation

The Raid at Stanley

Terra Cotta

The Flow of Things

Nineteen Forty Two

Pleasures, of Rain and Home

Heidelberg Habits

Dressing Alfred

All will be well

Punted-Scenes from a Bequest

Running in the mist

Do not recall those gone things said and done

For they summon up so wicked a marionette

He with a baggage load of mind’s dubious debt

And those other summed up things yet undone.

Neither there’s no capital to look from side to side

Even to the farthest hills across the endless plain

For microscopic close is through the viewer’s stain

And what’s away out there will always us outride.

And who can glance at what may come

Other than to say from dust we come and so shall go?

Even if there’s a faith and so a way to know,

It may only be what priest and penitent humbly hum.

Right here, right now, best there’s one to be kissed

For we are all, one and all, running in the mist.

Dejeuner

The darling woman, she’s so clever to find the very latest places where one can eat on a Friday of famish.

I just love this place. I was positively transported by the lilies against that mirror in the foyer and now this white linen, the heavy silver and what, may I ask, is one to do with all these glasses; surely, a veritable suicide to drink one’s way through all of them.

I wonder if I could get Carmen to do the flowers like that at home. S’pose I would have to get them delivered that way. She might have got the art of cleaning, just, but she would have no hope with artistry like that. Must do though, because the mirror in the entrance vestibule is henceforth a naked thing.

Talking of taking things home how about the waiter? Such a dish I just had to get him to bring me a glass of bubbles, just to get him to travel over here. What is that accent? Spanish?

Bread sticks. I’m so hungry I have to eat something. Ah, here he comes again. So that’s one tall glass gone away. So lovely he had to lean down to tell me his name; just the hint of fragrance I so adore.

Here she comes now. Oh my, I do wish she would dress as well as she eats. Those pearls for heaven’s sake, and not at all well cultured. They have that awful burnt caramel look about them. I’m sure she bought them at an op. shop even though she told me they were estate jewellery and she simply had to have them for that little art deco clasp.

And those glasses she wears, and constantly cleans. Look at them, the big Clark Kent numbers, round as you please. They just make her face look even pudgier. Oh my, she’s gone for the Spanish red lipstick again and still insists on crimson nail polish that matches….? What is wrong with the girl?

Still with all that weight she does as well as she might. Basic black is always the safest with her, um….. Let me see, you can hardly call it figure can you? How do you s’pose you render her physique properly in English? I think saying she has a build would be best. She moves with the grace of a heifer.

D’you suppose that size of trousers she favours is really built for someone shorter than her? I just don’t understand why she insists on trousers that finish just above the ankle and show off the purple between stockling and hem when she is cold.

God I hope she doesn’t talk about men today. She is such a bitch in that mode. She will turn on poor Trevor and run him down for the nicotine on his teeth, the paunch and all that dandruff. At least he’s mine. And it was so over the top when she rabbited on about his new suit. What would she know? She has no idea about matching skin tones and I just know the hint of blue goes against the skin tones now he’s getting a little redder with age.

Hello darling. What a darling, darling place you’ve found for us this time!

Oh yes, she says, I was sure you would just adore this place. And that dishy little waiter, you just want to order him as takeaway. I think I’ll have some bubbles too, fancy another to keep me company? Raul, over here.

Oh good Lord, she’s been at the garlic again. Not so obvious across the table but my when you lean in for a kiss it’s almost suffocating. And of course she knows the waiter’s name, just to show off.

I’ll be polite and get her talking now that she is at a safe distance.

So dear, quoi de nerve?

What’s new? Oh, I’ve just had the morning from hell. I’ve had to put up with Bishop all morning.

Oh you poor dear. There’s one advantage to being against Bishopric though.

What’s that?

You know you’ll be finished by lunch. He’ll be so thirsty by then.

Really? Is he drinking again?

Copiously. Mandy left him again.

Bravo. Bet she goes back though. No idea why she would want a creep like that as a husband. He is so aggressive and his breath! Pure baby’s nappy. Remember the shiner he gave Mandy last year? Honestly this craving for a bloke. I just don’t get it.

Yes, she does. She is desperate. I remember, just, that farewell last year for Simpson. True we were all a little trashed by evening’s end but at least I went home to Trevor. I saw her eating Preston’s face and him with his hand up her skirt.

Now there’s a remarkable thing when I think about it. She’s always in trousers for work and our little get togethers and then she wears those amazing skirts that are just acres of arse and access all areas when there is socialising, booze and men. Come to think of it that’s just the way she used to dress when we were flatting together. At least then she could have been called well rounded, but now, it’s all barge, front and back.

And you know when Mandy’s home Bishop is into the first bit of skirt he can corner. What is it with married men?

Can’t believe my ears. She knows Preston’s got two kids and a wife.

Speak of the devil. There’s Preston coming in down there on the lower level. And who’s he with? She’s wearing more mascara than a madam and that skirt is so tight I can see her G -string. How delicious, we can see him from up here and he is sitting with his back to us. My word, look at that neckline. It’s all in the window.

Darling look down over there. There’s Preston with his back to us and, well, illiad toot le monde au balcon. Who is she?

Let me see. Oh yes, that’s his new clerk. Nothing wrong with that I suppose. He’s allowed to lunch with his staff.

Goodness, I think she went a little green when she said that. I wonder. Do you always hold hands across the linen like that with staff?

Oh yes, here comes our little Raul again. He’s so dark. There indeed would be an after dinner mint for a girl. Just feast your eyes where his collarbones meet that gold necklace. How does he keep his trousers up with the belt slung so low?

She’s got the little cooing voice going. He knows he’s got her hooked. Still, I’ll have the bubbles too if only to keep her company.

She’s ordering the prawn thing with garlic. Note to self; be prepared when it’s kissy kissy time when we leave.

What the heck, he’s lovely. I think we should have something dry and white. I’ll ask him what’s good and see if I can get him to lean a little closer.

Oh, I’ve drifted off. What’s she saying again? No matter here it comes. Mine’s the little pastry thing please. Such a charmer, he’s filled the glass already, and such handsome glassware it is. I think you could go diving in these glasses and do laps when you came up to surface. It’s lovely and almost fruity for a chardonnay I think. Must remember to note the label.

She won’t talk now she’ll be so busy seeing the prawns off. This pastry! And it’s mushroom and that sort of salted pork taste. Divine!

Must pee. That’s the problem with the chardonnay. You only get to rent it. She’ll want bubbles next but she’ll come round to the red. She’s having the steak too so she will see the sense of that. Girl’s got to have her iron, hot flushes or no.

Oh good, she’s off to the loo now.