Friday Fictioneers – Old Habits Die Hard

ff191114The bedside clock glowed ’06:25′; downstairs, the chain on the front door rattled.

‘Is it him again?’ said Kathy.

I rolled out of bed and peered through a small gap in the curtains.

‘It is – could you please ring them, dear?’

On the front doorstep a confused, hollow-cheeked, old man stood staring in silence at his rusted Yale key.

‘Come in,’ I said.

As we sat waiting, he demanded to know who I was, while informing me, in his usual matter-of-fact fashion, that I was squatting illegally in Middleham’s Motors.

I smiled and stroked my father’s hand as bright, white headlights flooded the courtyard.


These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

18 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – Old Habits Die Hard

    1. paulmclem Post author

      Cheers, Claire. Loved the photo this week. Just shouted out that this was the garage where yer granny took her Hillman Imp to be serviced in the 70s. Run by a real gent who has long since retired. Now turned into houses. A very nostalgic, British photo, which makes an enjoyable change.


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