As well as having a bad-tempered mother to contend with, I now have an Irascible Employer. 143 Bywater have cancelled their papers, and Clive says it is all my fault, 143 being a significant contributor to his pension fund because they never check their bills. When I have completed my afternoon round, Clive said, I need never darken the doors of his newsagents again, unless it is to purchase something. I had half a mind not to turn up this afternoon and let Clive sort out the ensuing chaos, but I have been taught always to take the Christian line of forbearance and forgiveness, and also I haven’t been paid yet.
Newsagenting is clearly a lucrative Profession, for as well as the battered old Renault that Clive drives round the village in, I know that he has a shiny Porsche in the garage behind the shop, because I saw it once when I had to use the outside loo and happened accidentally to stretch up to peer through the garage window.
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