Aluredian 43
of the plastic counter, the bacon in that
packet looks suspiciously grey, so I open
the fridge door. One packet of bacon lies
on its own in the centre of the fridge.
"Who do I pay when I've finished cooking
my bacon?" I ask.
"If you just quickly pay me now," says
Darren. "Then that saves the fuss after."
My immediate thought is not to bother
with breakfast this morning, and try
somewhere else. However, I am feeling
very hungry, and it shouldn't take long. I
chuck a two-pound coin, and a one-pound
coin to Darren - who, frustratingly,
catches both coins cleanly in the palm of
his hand.
A cruel hiss ensues as the bacon hits the
hot pan. It's already starting to smell quite
good, and I am starting to feel hungrier.
"Oh, actually, as you're up there, you
wouldn't mind cooking some bacon for me
would you?" says Jim. "And you Steve?
How about you, Merv?" The men all
glance around at each other and
exchange winks and nods. "Mate, you
wouldn't mind doing some bacon for all of
us, 'cos that would be great. I'll tell you
what, I'll give you back your cash when
you're done, then we're all even."
The hiss becomes louder and louder as
five pieces of bacon hit the pan on top of
the cooking hob.
"Smelling good, mate! I'm looking forward
to it!" says Steve.
It takes about five minutes, to cook the
pieces of bacon. The bacon does not
cook well, or cook evenly, it seems
impossible to rid the bacon of its pale pink
flabby texture; fat dances around the pan
in white, pearly beads.
Pale paper plates, with rashers of bacon
perched on top, are passed around the
men.
"Nice one, mate."
"Cheers, fella."
"Not bad!"
The men all seem to be very pleased as
the five plates are passed around. They
don't seem to be bad at all, the tension
and hostility I experienced earlier seems
to have gone completely.
I watch them feeling rather satisfied with
myself, and there is a moment of quiet,
except for the sounds of chewing, licking
of fingers and smacking of lips. The only
other sound to be heard is the birds,
flapping and singing in the trees above.
This place really isn't so bad at all.
The men stand up, pushing their chairs
behind them as they do so. I suddenly
realise there isn't any bacon left for me,
that is, apart from a rather rotten-looking,
grey piece of bacon on top of the plastic
counter.
"Hang on guys! Darren? What about my
…?" But with a rummage of keys and the
sound of trainers against gritty tarmac,
the men are off, slowly ambling towards
their lorries parked a short distance away.
My decision to flick the indicator switch to
see if I could find some breakfast is
immediately regretted. Three pounds
worse off, 15 minutes worse off, and even
more hungry, I realise that they do things
differently in this lay-by off the A38.
I hear the groan of five lorries as their
engines start; a puff of black smoke is
coughed out of pipes as they accelerate
away. I look at the lorries pulling away,
and I look at the grey bacon lying on top
of the counter. I feel hungry.
61 studied the theme
of ruling and rulers,
including poems
attributed to
Elizabeth I and
others in power.
I am bound by
promise and faith
by Elle Bracher
I am bound by promise and faith,
I should be crowned and yet I hate
All the rules and regulations
Making us the mules of the Nations.
Alas I have no Sunday rest,
And I must always look my best,
Whenever in hallways, or addressed.
Never making a peep, or a protest.
So, it seems you have broken me,
For the beam in my smile has faded
And my outlook on life is that little
more jaded.
And so, if we pull back our layers
We see that in life we are all really
the players,
Of the same game. Just wanting
Everyone to know our name.
Hattie Kean A2