I often think.

I worked in Co-Op as a Saturday boy back in 1971; I was the only ‘man’ in the shop. Well I say the only man; we had a manager but he was always off sick and his place was taken by the senior shop assistant. One Saturday afternoon a man aged about 20 or so staggered into the shop and stood in the middle of the shop floor and scanned round the shop.   I watched him and knew that he was high on drink or drugs; in fact I sort of knew it was drugs as I had seen him come out of the Hippy commune at the top of Sach Road where I lived. He didn’t seem to be doing any harm so I went back out to the warehouse to get some sugar for shop floor.   The next thing I knew Flo a shop assistant was calling my name, “David! Come here, David….” I put down the case of sugar and went to see what Flo wanted. She was standing and pointing to the man who was holding a large tin of Kit E Kat. He was swaying on his feet and scrutinising the tin closely and then putting it under his jacke...

Busy old fool, unruly Sun,         Why dost thou thus, Through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?         Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide         Late schoolboys and sour 'prentices,     Go tell court huntsmen that the King will ride,     Call country ants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. John Donne. The Sun Rising. I don’t share the joy that the majority of people do to that loss of an hour to change over to British Summertime. I have to have darkness to hide away from life and the pursuit of happiness. Paradoxically I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and have to use a high intensity light box to survive the winter and its denigrating effect on my moods and depression. The light...

The Christmas Turkey I was a 16 and a Saturday assistant for the Co-Op in Upper Clapton, Hackney when this happened: It was Christmas Eve 1972 and the shop was just about closing, we couldn’t stop people coming in until it was past 4 o’clock. It was about two minutes to four when a very drunk man staggered into the shop. “Got a turkey?” were the first slurred words out of his mouth. “Got a turkey?” he said again. He wasn’t directing the question at anyone in particular he was standing just inside the door and swaying drunkenly. “Got a turkey Mrs?” he slurred again at Flo who standing behind the counter and was closest to him. “We don’t sell Turkeys…” Flo said. The drunk swayed and tried to take in the answer. He put his hands out palms down and thought about the answer he just been given. He took a few staggering steps further into the shop. “A turkey isss all I want Mrsss….” He slurred. Flo just looked at him and said again, ...