Tuesday 30 October 2012

Sowerbutt's Restraint

Sowerbutt looked up at the sound of whistles and jeers. He was wearing his new leather jacket and snowy-white shirt; the elderly bell-hop at the Mackworth had put a mirror shine on his hand-made boots.
The man sitting next to him in the wooden hut on 4 Quay in King’s Dock, Swansea put his large hand on Sowerbutt’s arm, a broad smile breaking out across his battered face. “Your long hair, James. Short back and sides is the order of the day in traditional Swansea, man. They are not used to such high London fashion out here on the docks.”
Sowerbutt grinned. “Rarely use a shooter these days, Mad Dog, too noisy, too messy in the Smoke. If I did, the pipe that your mate over there is puffing on would make good target practice and I could turn your other mate’s trilby into a colander. Then again, I’m right out of practice and you never know what I might shoot at." http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Lemon-Surrender-1940-ebook/dp/B008USR7FA

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