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500 mile - Sixth Mile




You know, Jack, that was the first time in my all life where I could sit into the toilette with the door open and cook breakfast at the same time. Oh, Jack, we'll find a better place. Don't be sad.
Yeah, you're right. We only got one bedroom. I mean, we've got no married life. 
Yeah, we remembered those days.

 She, his sister, used to give Bob, our son, some frozen chips. Frozen chips? Yes, frozen chips.
You know what I think about them things? They are unhealthy. That's all. I many times said things like that to Jack's sister.
We spent many days like this, talking about nonsense.
Some days we go and make one another a cup of tea. Another day we sat outside the doors and have a laugh.

Cook your dinner, now, dear. She used to say to me when it was my turn. And my turn was for Bob, me and Jack.
Then I'll cook ours, for me and the colonel, she used to say.
It was like living in a lie, in a big lie, where nothing was true and all surreal. It was a lie that we used to live in to cover our poverty, absolute poverty, trying to deceit the poverty itself. And us above all. I really would have given £ 1000, to move out there, out that big dull deceit, lying to ourselves, day after day.
No one accepts poverty as a gift. You cannot keep yourself to yourself. Poverty is scary. That's why you mock it and mock yourself above all.
She didn't want to have dinner all together.
You know that it don't work when all we have it together. She liked to say, every time.

And then it was too much. She started annoying me with so many observations. Don't do this don't do that.
It was like a cell for too many convicts that little flat.
She exploded, one day.
Stop your fellow putting his feet all over the furniture and picking up the baby (Bob) with his filthy hands.
What? He's your brother!
Yes, you taught him dirty habits.
Me? Dirty habits? But you!...you don't even wash your hands before you touch the baby (Bob) or his bottle.
Well, dear, I was only doing it to help. And there's the toilet...
What about the sodding toilet?
You know what I mean, about the toilet. I think it's disgusting.
Well, of all the meanest, horriblest things, to bring that up.

It was time to go. And we went.

Keep your rotten old flat. I can't stand it anyway! (I finally rejected). It's driving me round the bloody bend!
So, we have lastly run off from her crude power. She too was in the grip of poverty and poverty is a rogue and ruthless form of power. It destroys people, sentiments, families and love.
And what scares me more, there is no way out for people like us but sufferance.


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