Friday Fictioneers – The Trainspotter

ff021215Our apartment was at the end of the Blue Line. Through my bedroom window I used to watch, hoping to see father arriving home on the first down-service each morning. Mother said he was a barman in the city: by night he served sparkling cocktails to big shots, during the day he slept. We never had much, but we never went short, and father always told us such great stories.

The Blue Line now terminates three stops back up the line at Farrow and Main; the track bed lies overgrown and abandoned. But my memories of those times  remain as colourful as the days they were made.

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

(Apologies to CEAyr, no jokes again this week. I will try and raise a titter before Christmas, if I can.)

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16 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – The Trainspotter

  1. Margaret

    I love the point of view here – the child and then the adult. I’m wondering, however, about “Mother said …”. Was he really a barman in the city? Either way, the story works really well.

    Reply

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