Phillip has agreed to give a presentation to the WI. He meets an angel there. But what will he say to his girlfriend Claire?

Losing my Head

I place my head down on the lit work table and step back from it.

‘Hmmm…’ I say, feeling the moment rush at me like a tsunami. Evening darkness pours in through the windows of the conservatory.

What can I say to her? It’s hideous. My fine nose is drooping. My ears resemble teacup handles. The lenses of my glasses look as if they are about to pop like balloons. My cleft chin has the form of a baby’s bottom.

‘Don’t you like it?’ Claire says from behind me.

I’m reluctant to turn round. I’m such a useless liar. There must be something good… Anything. Think, think.

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A gentle walk along the pier for Maureen and her husband. Jack does possess imagination, after all.

The End-of-the-pier Show

The sun’s rays burst through ribbed clouds; sheets of light splayed out across the wrinkled foil of the North Sea. On the raised promenade, an old man stopped and put his hand to his forehead as if in salute. ‘You don’t see that in Hounslow,’ he said, apparently unaware his female companion had walked on.

After a few steps, without him to shield her from the easterly wind, the short woman turned round. The hem of her brown coat and the back of her shiny headscarf flapped as she called out. ‘Come on. I’m freezing. What are you doing now?

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