The vile gardner sits on the lawn shearing the pansies. Tomorrow is Bloomingday at Three Stone Pier town. All the women sitting vain with their bonnets embellished smartly with fake fruits. All, tending away at their flower patches proudly.
Large moustached bobbies parading the street making it clear that truancy will not be tolerated. Tiny men in their Sunday best jacket looking out of their windows at the early morning flutter taking place below their balconies.
'If man didn't bring home the bacon, we'd end eating daisies for dinner.'
"Edward, stop staring at my tomatoes so. They're beginning to shrivel. Now come down and help Mr. Griffith here with the shears and the weeding."
"Why? We pay him to prim the patch."
The dark crusty face of Griffith left the flower bed. He stood up and looked sullenly at the couple.
"I'm done for the day Mrs. Basil...", he rasped, "...now if I could just be paid my dues so that I may be on my way to celebrate my young 'uns birthday."
Edward snapped,, "What, he's just been here an hour and a half and you're supposed to pay him?"
"Oh pay the man Edward. I really need my flower patch looking the way it is if I'm to win this Bloomingday."
Edward stared at the gardner and produced a wicked smile. "Oh forgive me, but I seem to be down to my last 30 shillings. Why don't you come next month when I'm in a more generoous quantity of cash?"
The gardner smiled, reached into his pocket and took out what seemed like a rose. It petals were close to withering but it smelled a strong pungent aroma of cinnamon whetted with brandy and coal. He handed it over to Edward who accepted it graciously, still smiling.
"Why, thank you Mr. Griffith. This is quite unassuming."
"Consider it a gift for times to come." spoke Griffith and turned to leave. He picked up the sickle and the bag of weed and strolled off.
I walked down the street and crossed the Parkinsons' lawn. It looked good, though there was evidence of thistles sprouting in due course if they didn't plough out the roots from the last bunch. As I walked I also crossed the Smiths, Birlings and...
"MR. GRIFFITH!!!" shouted a voice from behind.
I didn't need to turn back but slowed my pace to almost a halt.
As the fellow appproached me, I could hear his panting and wheezing.
"I believe you have my 55 shillngs in your possession Mr. Edward."
"Yes, please forgive me for any kind of inconvenience caused."
"None whatsoever. Do not fret sir. But please bear in mind, starting today every month your last 55 shillings need to be wired to my account without fail. Is that clear?"
"Crystal sir. As you please.".
"Good, have a wonderful day Mr. Edward. Please wish your wife the very best of luck for the flower war from my end."
Large moustached bobbies parading the street making it clear that truancy will not be tolerated. Tiny men in their Sunday best jacket looking out of their windows at the early morning flutter taking place below their balconies.
'If man didn't bring home the bacon, we'd end eating daisies for dinner.'
"Edward, stop staring at my tomatoes so. They're beginning to shrivel. Now come down and help Mr. Griffith here with the shears and the weeding."
"Why? We pay him to prim the patch."
The dark crusty face of Griffith left the flower bed. He stood up and looked sullenly at the couple.
"I'm done for the day Mrs. Basil...", he rasped, "...now if I could just be paid my dues so that I may be on my way to celebrate my young 'uns birthday."
Edward snapped,, "What, he's just been here an hour and a half and you're supposed to pay him?"
"Oh pay the man Edward. I really need my flower patch looking the way it is if I'm to win this Bloomingday."
Edward stared at the gardner and produced a wicked smile. "Oh forgive me, but I seem to be down to my last 30 shillings. Why don't you come next month when I'm in a more generoous quantity of cash?"
The gardner smiled, reached into his pocket and took out what seemed like a rose. It petals were close to withering but it smelled a strong pungent aroma of cinnamon whetted with brandy and coal. He handed it over to Edward who accepted it graciously, still smiling.
"Why, thank you Mr. Griffith. This is quite unassuming."
"Consider it a gift for times to come." spoke Griffith and turned to leave. He picked up the sickle and the bag of weed and strolled off.
I walked down the street and crossed the Parkinsons' lawn. It looked good, though there was evidence of thistles sprouting in due course if they didn't plough out the roots from the last bunch. As I walked I also crossed the Smiths, Birlings and...
"MR. GRIFFITH!!!" shouted a voice from behind.
I didn't need to turn back but slowed my pace to almost a halt.
As the fellow appproached me, I could hear his panting and wheezing.
"I believe you have my 55 shillngs in your possession Mr. Edward."
"Yes, please forgive me for any kind of inconvenience caused."
"None whatsoever. Do not fret sir. But please bear in mind, starting today every month your last 55 shillings need to be wired to my account without fail. Is that clear?"
"Crystal sir. As you please.".
"Good, have a wonderful day Mr. Edward. Please wish your wife the very best of luck for the flower war from my end."
