An Old Pub Near the Angel

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‘Duncan your record is appalling,’ Sanderson looked over his head somewhere and then sniffed. ‘You should have been fired the last time you were up.’

‘But Mr Sanderson there were reasons for those absences,’ Duncan stopped and looked away.

‘What excuses could there be for this,’ he picked up the folder, ‘since the last time you were up here. Look at this.’ He smacked the page with his left hand. ‘November sixth, eight, nine, the fourteenth, twentieth, twenty-first and twenty-second.’ Sanderson let the page fall.

‘But I gave a medical certificate for those three days,’ said Duncan.

‘No that won’t do,’ Sanderson frowned. ‘I mean what would my bosses think. No. You’ll be paid to the end of the week. Now let me see, Tuesday isn’t it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Fine fine,’ he made a note on a pad then sat back in his modern chair.

‘Well Duncan if you go home and change now, you could get to the stores before it closed. Or you could go tomorrow. Yes perhaps that would be best.’

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