In the cafe at the railways station in Liverpool there was on a hot plate,
a dish of sausages with mash potatoes. It, the food, had been there
a long time waiting for someone hungry enough to buy this disgusting,
dish, unprotected from cigarette smoke and sneezing people.
There was a time – not long ago – when people smoked silly cigarettes
smoked all over the place, tables overflowing of dirty ashtrays and I was
glad when smokers had to go outside to lit up, even though I too was
a smoker at the time.
I was going to London for the week but lost my train I was too occupied
with the plate of sausage waiting for someone to buy the filthy food;
no one did so I got up and bought the lonely lunch this unspeakable last
plate readymade food and threw it into the waste bin.
I got a late train to London and back then not many places to eat at night
And I could not help thinking of sausage and mash.
