Speaking Soul (1)

A young woman¬†falls back into a chair opposite¬†her partner in Starbucks, St Ann’s Square, Manchester. Where are we going to have lunch? She asks, sighing before leaning forward and saying, I’ve got three pairs of Levis but I need some more. The ones I tried on were dead tight.

He brings me my coffee and a plastic container of fruit salad. It’s all mango, I say. Give it here, I’ll get you another. No, it’s alright. Let me. Are you sure? Yes.

The woman is talking about her birthday, her body slumped in the chair. Don’t give me anything that’s a surprise, she says. I don’t want a surprise, that’s what I’m going to London for.


There are two lads sitting on packing cases in the sun painting the Bethel Chapel’s railings. They both sing along to the radio, wake me up before you go go……


Look, he says in the car on the way to the supermarket and pointing at the trees, it’s going over. Yep, I say, it’s starting.