’ ‘Count me in, bro!’ said Chick. ‘Got something in mind, Wheelie-boy?’ ‘Might have, yeah. I saw a likely set of wheels tucked down a nice...out-the-way side street on the way in today, one of those early Fiestas, I can do them with me eyes closed.’ Wheelie emitted a loud guttural burp which echoed around the tall suspended roof structure. ‘Come on then, Chicky, let’s split.’ Sammy and Django headed for the far end of The Mall where George Timpson was plying his trade. They called in at the wine. ‘Just all this talk of food is making me big,’ I texted. It was but it wasn’t my already slightly pudgy stomach I was really referring too. Something else was getting a bit larger while we continued to chat. ‘Why not chow down?’ asked Cathy. I didn’t respond, not knowing exactly what she meant. The course of the conversation changed for a few minutes as we talked about how sore we were from work and about Cathy’s trips to her massage therapist, her RMT. In one line of text, her phone’s. More

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