He sat

He sat

Clasped hands

Resting on the table

Waiting for his dinner

Perpetually tearful

He said it was the weather

‘I’m glad to see you

Who are you again?

I don’t want to be rude

But it will be dinner time soon

They always serve it

So we don’t forget

To eat

Why would I forget?

What’s your name again?’

“Peter”

‘I had a son called Peter

Did he die?

He might have died

Sad, isn’t it?

A man shouldn’t outlive

A son.

See, these are plums

Or are they tomatoes

Tomatoes that are plums

How odd.

I’m sorry, but who are you again?

Peter.

‘Is this bacon?

I think this is supposed to be bacon

I like it crispy.

I wouldn’t know you

If I passed you in the street

This is nice

But I like a curry

They never do it here

Do they?

Probably it’s too dangerous

For the squits.

I liked it in the Army

Not the squits

Although there were plenty of them

During the war

Proper curry

But I don’t talk about the army.

They use a hoist

Whether I want it or not

But they are nice enough

I knew her mother

Nice woman

A good singer.

They won’t let me go home.

I miss it

I miss her.

Will she be in later?

The bodies

Identified them

Bloody unrecognisable.

Excuse my French

Who are you again?

They are very nice in here

She is

That one

With the smile.

She reminds me of somebody

You remind me of somebody

Who are you again?

Is it time yet?

I would like a Guinness

Do you like Guinness?

Perhaps we could go out later

I do like a game of pool

And a Guinness

Just the one glass

Do you play?

What was your name again?

Peter.

He died, you know.

Did he die

Perhaps he did

Such a shame

It shouldn’t happen

Scuppered me

It has.

Sorry

But I’ve forgotten your name again

So much is gone.

Me and my memory

What are we like?