City Boy

Kristiana Reed restores our faith

My Screaming Twenties

For the last few weeks, I’ve been coming to Jacqueline’s for lunch and when I say lunch I mean a diet coke and cream tea – English breakfast. It’s my favourite tea room with its assorted table cloths, dark wood and 1940s crockery adorning every shelf and up-cycled trunk screwed to the wall. A gramophone crackles in the corner, the colour of smudged brass. Every waitress wears a button up cardigan and sways, away with the fairies, to world war two melodies.

The man at the table for two behind me is tapping his feet to a different beat, circling thumb around finger and chewing gum. My guess is, he is a city boy. He’s wearing trainers and denim but the navy fisherman smock is throwing me off. He is drinking a ginger beer – his knuckles turning yellow as he makes a fist with the glass. He has aged…

View original post 567 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s