59 #Prohibition

April sat in the Peccadillo Café, eating her breakfast and reading the Daily Chronicle. It didn’t take her long before she was in a rage – the source of her anger was a news report that her beloved menthol cigarettes were to be banned by the government.

‘This is prohibition, that’s what it is,’ she spewed as she read on, incredulously shouting out remarks from time to time.

‘Every year 700,000 people in Europe die from smoking-related diseases? So what? Every year thousands are killed on the roads. What are we going do, ban cars too? Oh, listen to this part,’ April said to no one in particular, ‘“Menthol cigarettes have been targeted because studies show they appeal to younger smokers.” Younger smokers? What about bloody ancient smokers like myself?’

She continued to mutter under her breath for the next few minutes, while taking huge chunks out of her bacon roll. All the regulars and staff were used to April’s ramblings by now and didn’t give her a second glance. The waitress, Martel, approached April’s table with the bill and smiled. ‘I’d hate to see what you’d be like if they banned fry-ups.’ April looked genuinely aghast, before replying, ‘I think you’d find me floating face down in the Clyde.’

Her phone rang. It was Connor. ‘Oh it’s yourself,’ April said. ‘I’m just chatting to Martel right now. What’s the weather like? What time is it right now? Have you had a bagel and pepperami yet?’

‘So many questions before I’ve even opened my mouth. But what the hell. Say hello to Martel for me. The weather is dry and sunny but with a cold front moving in from the west. The time, sponsored by Accurist, is 5.30am. It’s a bagel and pastrami, not pepperami. And no I haven’t had one yet, basically because the time difference screws up my body clock and my appetite.’

‘Well, you should eat something. Force yourself or you’ll run out of steam.’

‘Yes, Mum. What news from the front?’

‘Well, Big Fergie has been all over the shop. He’s getting suggestions left, right and centre from the back bench. How did we end up with all these managers?’

‘I don’t know, but we’re certainly not any better off for it. The problem with so many voices is they all want their say. They feel they must justify their existence. Instead of staying silent, or just saying the story is fine the way it is.’

‘Exactly,’ April said, stuffing more food into her mouth.

‘I’ve told you before it’s the height of bad manners to eat while talking on the phone,’ Connor complained.

‘I know, I know, but I’m starving.’

Strangely, the sounds of April trying to speak and eat at the same time made Connor slightly homesick. ‘I miss the Peccadillo.’

‘Well, find yourself a diner and get something to eat. You’ll feel a lot better for it.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever.’

‘Whatever, yourself. You’ll thank me for it. There’s no problem that can’t be solved with food.’

‘Except morbid obesity,’ Connor replied before hanging up on a throaty cackle from the other side of the Atlantic. April had her flaws but at least she always laughed at Connor’s jokes.