the can

Did you find the can? On the side, by the bread bin? I wouldn’t lift the lid if I were you. There’s every colour you could think of, and more. It’s been weeks sitting there. I just haven’t been able to take it down myself. But if you could stick it in the rubbish with the rest of it, I’d be grateful. And bring me that pile of letters through, could you? I’ll have a sort whilst you’re down the shops.

You know where the shops are, don’t you? You can’t miss them. Out of the door, turn left, a hundred yards and you’ve got three or four. And when I say a hundred yards I mean a hundred yards. They’ve got most of what I need. Three bottles of squash – big bottles – not the stuff you drink ready made. That won’t last five minutes. canNo – the stuff you make up with water. Don’t care what flavour. You decide. Two packs of sandwiches. Nothing with eggs. Stay clear of eggs. Anything else is fine. Six tomatoes. What else? Oh! Some cheesy biscuits.

If they’ve got any.

Which I doubt.

4 thoughts on “the can

  1. If they don’t have any cheesy biscuits,could I have some caviar,lobster and champagne instead.

    Vintage,mind.Not the cheap rubbish.


  2. I promise I will never, ever squabble with you over the roll mops (not a sentence I thought I’d write tonight). But I’ve got my eye on those pickled onions…


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