Smoke

“Come on, kids. It’ll be fun. Reliving our visit to London.”

“You have a strange idea of fun, Dad.” Alexei replies.

“Funny, fun funtime, looking at photos.”

“Stop talking crap, Dad. And let’s just get this over with.”

“That’s a better attitude, Andrew.”

“Loads more railway station pictures?”

“Only a few. Alexei.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I got this nice one of King’s Cross.”

 

Andrew: “It looks hot.”

“It was hot. Don’t you remember?

“How could I forget?”

“Just as well the Euston Flyer has industrial strength aircon, eh, kids?”

Andrew: “I’d have died, otherwise.”

Alexei: “What a surprise: there’s a photo of your pint.”

 

“It wasn’t the best pint of ESB ever. A bit past optimal.”

Andrew: “You didn’t let that stop you drinking a second pint.”

“The heat made me thirsty.”

Alexei: “You always have an excuse.”

“Reason. I always have a reason.”

“Whatever.”

“At least you got to see some of the sights.”

Alesei: “Did I? Which ones?”

“St. Pancras station. You even took a photo of it.”

“Does that count as a sight?”

“It does in my book.”

“And that’s all that matters, eh?”

“Exactly. The British Library. You got to see that, as well.”

“From the pub.”

“That still counts.”

“We weren’t even on the same side of the road.”

“You could still see it, though.”

“When there weren’t any buses going past.”

“Then there was that funny church. The one based on a temple on the Acropolis.”

“That thing we walked past?”

“I stopped long enough to snap it.”

Andrew: “Well done you. I was too hot to fancy hanging around anywhere.”

“Then there was the Waitrose in the Brunswick. I showed you that as well. That should count as two.”

Alexei: “What a treat. A supermarket and a shitty 1960s shopping centre.”

“All parts of London.”

Alexei: “Yes, boring parts.”

“I found another pub with aircon.”

Alexei: “Only because you wanted to drink vomit there.”

“Old Puke, Lexie, not vomit.”

“Puke, vomit. It’s all the same.”

“Though the Old Peculier was a little disappointing.”

Andrew: “Why? Not vomitey enough?”

“Too vomitey, if anything. Past its best, sadlly.”

Andrew: “Isn’t that beer why we went to the Swan?”

“Yes. It was recommended to me as a replacement for the Museum Tavern. Since that stopped selling Old Peculier, for some reason.”

Alexei: “When will we be getting to the Museum Tavern?”

“Soon, Lexie, soon.”

“What’s the hold up?”

“Well, we have a proper London sight first.”

“You admit the others weren’t real ones, then?”

“The British Museum. On a nice quiet day.”

“You’re ignoring what I said, Dad.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you go inside, Lexie?”

“It was too hot.”

“That’s Andrew’s excuse. I’m sure it’s kept cool inside, anyway. If only to protect the objects.”

“I didn’t feel like it, OK?”

“It was pretty hot in the Museum Tavern, anyway. But I suppose that’s somewhere you wanted to visit.”

“Yes. To see the mirror Karl Marx smashed.”

“He was a violent drunk. And prone to terrible hangovers. That’s why he hated capitalism so much.”

Andrew: “That makes no sense, Dad.”

“Yes, it does. He hated the capitalist system that enabled the sale of drink to him.”

“That’s total bollocks.”

“Is it? I studied sociology. I know all about Marx.”

“And I studied politics. And you didn’t really ‘study’ sociology. You told me you just bullshitted your way through the exams.”

“Used my intelligence is how I would put it.”

“But didn’t actually do any studying.”

“I read Max Weber’s book on suicide. That must count.”

“Not Marx, though, is it?”

“Interesting that the replacement mirror is for Watney’s Imperial Stout.”

Alexei: “What’s interesting about that?”

“That this must have been a Watney’s pub. And that Watney brewed an Imperial Stout.”

“That’s interesting?”

“Yes, because it helps date the mirror. Late 19th-century is my guess.”

“How do you come to that? Other than knowing Marx broke the mirror it replaced.”

“Because there’s no mention of Combe and Reid. Watney merged with them in 1898. And that it’s a Stout branded as a Watney beer. After the merger, the Stouts were mostly branded Combe or Reid.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, granddad.”

“Here’s another sight.”

“What? Some trees?”

“It’s one of London’s famous squares.”

“Which one?”

“Er, Bedford Square, I think.”

“Great. You don’t even know which one it is.”

“Look, this is a nice photo of King’s Cross.”

Alexei: “Great. A station again.”

“Doesn’t it look nice in the early evening sun?”

“It looks just like it did earlier.”

“You’ve no sense of romance. Lexie.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I got a good photo of the Parcel Yard. Showing the prices.”

Andrew: ‘Eight pounds fifty-five for a pint. That’s worse than Amsterdam.”

“I know. Just as well we only had the one pint.”

“You didn’t have a pint. You were on the whisky again.”

“Stayed for one round then, you fucking pedant.”

Andrew: “Did you get any good train photos?”

“No.”