Well it’s here. Voice Week has arrived. That means five days of frenzied keyboard tapping, trying to get my entries all sorted in time.
Check out Voice Week HQ for full details.
Here goes with day one …
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Here we have a scene typical of any medium sized English town, all of them have certain streets that are, shall we say, less popular with visitors; where the gas lights seem to shed less light than usual into the alleys and yards, where the pubs, public houses, rattle with activities shielded from public view, where items ‘between owners’ can be bought and sold, their origins never questioned, where deals are done, where secrets are passed, where ale is consumed. Lots of ale.
It’s the highlight of their day. Some of them have been coming here all their lives, as soon as they were old enough not to get thrown out on their ear. Others come in once, have a drink and are gone, never seen again. Tonight there are two scoundrels in the corner near the window, they always sit there. They can see who’s coming before they get to the door. Never miss a trick, those two. Wouldn’t trust them farther than I could spit. Two well dressed men are sat in the dimly lit corner at the back of the bar. They’ve been in before, but not often. When they are here they talk in whispers, they move their hands as if working machines. It’s as if they are planning something.
Here comes the local bobby. Got an eye for the barmaid, he has. Just as well his misses don’t know. Strange how Jack the Lad can sidle out the door before the constable can get to the bar. He’ll be back again when the coast is clear.
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(c) K Patrick Moody, 2014
Voice Week is at http://voiceweek.wordpress.com