The Seagulls Song

A young woman discovers she has breast cancer and tells her friend and neighbour- her son is a promising young footballer and his father likes a pint or three. Get the hankies ready when reading this one.

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Margaret shut the bedroom door as Tom walked down the passage to the toilet to relieve himself. He held on to the cistern pipe as he tried to keep the stream of urine in one place.

When he was finished he pulled the chain then went into the kitchen and lay down on the settee. He took off his coat and used it a blanket and one of the cushions as a pillow for his head to rest on. Within ten minutes he was snoring away.

 

 

The next morning Tom woke up with a crick in his neck he rotated his head around trying to ease the stiffness. He went to the bathroom where he washed himself cleaned his teeth and combed his hair.

He took out his work clothes; the shirt he had worn yesterday would do him another day he thought; he put on a pair of bib and brace trousers then his work boots. Tom wandered into the kitchen and made a cup of Nescafe Instant Coffee before making his own sandwiches for his bait and a flask of hot coffee. Tom placed everything in his bait bag. He found his works coat on the back of the door then slipped it on fastened the buttons then headed down the passage.

“Georgie! He shouted as the door opened.”

“What Dad?

“Time to get up for school lad.”

“Aye; all reet.”

Tom slammed the door and Georgie turned over and went back to sleep.

Walking down the street he said hello to the postman before turning the corner onto Wallsend Road.

He called into the paper shop across the road bought himself an ounce of Golden Virginia and the Daily Mirror to read on the bus.

Looking at the headlines he saw a picture of Edward Heath attending a conference meeting. The fat faced, silver haired sod he thought; as he stood outside of the Pineapple pub waiting for the 306 to take him to Tynemouth. Tom hated the Tories he had been a staunch labour man all his working life like his father and Grandfather before him. The bus came and he got on it and sat right at the back near the window.

He took out his backy tin and rolled a cigarette then lit it up as he scanned the sports pages. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he read the headline – ALF RAMSEY SACKED! The man who had taken England to a world cup win had been dismissed.

If they could do that to a man like him they could do anything he thought as the bus entered North Shields in Northumberland Square.

The conductor Graham Smith nodded at Tom who gave him the five pence fare. “I see they sacked Ramsey said Tom to Graham as he gave him his ticket.

“Bloody disgrace said Graham”

“I wonder who they will bring in now.

“Either Don Revie or Greenwood I reckon.

“Brian Clough is the man for me; he doesn’t stand any nonsense from players. “ Ask Peter Shilton.”

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