I’m sat in a cafe, and it’s narcotic, I’m guessing from the decor that its trying to relive the past.

I’m almost a quarter of the way through my bacon sandwich, it’s nice, but I should have indulged in a full breakfast. You see, the table adjacent to mine did, and now they are gorging themselves on fodder that could have been mine.

And as I paused between the last and next mouthful a wave of nostalgia washed over me.

I have just been to the cobblers to have the heels of my boots fixed, they were in desperate need of work due to the mileage they have recently completed.

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I’m know watching tables empty and tables refill, and I’m wondering how many of those who have stuffed their faces, quenched their thirst remember the ‘Good old days?’. . .

I chuckle to myself why do we call them the ‘good old days’ as if time now elapsed was full of life more vigorous more fulfilling than these days we now occupy?.

. . .’very peculiar!’. . .

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A lady is rummaging through her historic looking bag, she has a desperate, anxious look upon her weather worn face. 

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