FRIDAY THE HARD WAY*

It was Friday and all of the church shops were closed.

A sign outside the local Catholic church that swung to and fro in the icy breeze coming from the North read:

"No Mass this Sunday. Pick up your Mortal Sin and go directly to Hell."

Richard smiled at the Monopoly game reference but there was something in the way that message was written. An undercurrent ....

Richard (of RBB) was out walking - nothing much else to do, except practise. He knew that he needed to do more work on his bass tune 'Itchy Feet' and he wanted to practise short bows on his violin, regardless of what Arrogant Robert said but right now he was walking. He passed a Presbyterian church. There were a couple of people working on the property doing garden maintenance. They looked much happier than Catholics he had seen. Maybe Catholics bear the weight of all the nasty stuff their church has done, he thought. There were quite a few cars on the road. He was sure they all weren't going to essential work. Probably just out for a drive because they were bored. He kept walking.

He passed the one supermarket in the valley.

The new owner must have done it up he thought. Nice. 

There was a small queue outside. People trying to stand two metres apart, all wearing masks. Some people were coming out of the supermarket and not carrying toilet paper. That's OK he thought. In all the novels I feature in I never go to the toilet, or change my underpants.

He wondered what sort of a song Peter 'Blues' McDonald would write if he was watching. He also wondered if Robert loved Peter as well as his brother Darryl. He knew that Robert hadn't mentioned loving him for a while now. 

Richard (of RBB) walked on. A police cruiser passed by but showed him no interest. The two patrol guys looked like ex college line-backers, all shoulder and no necks. They didn't stop to ask him why he wasn't practising though.  They seemed distracted somehow. Most of the houses he passed seemed quiet or empty. Probably just full of people playing on their phones or praying on their knees. Facebook would probably be the busiest place in town now that the churches were closed. A chilling breeze bit and Richard raised his collar.

Then he noticed a couple of guys watching him. They were big guys - all shoulder and no necks. They had muscles that had been developed by doing tasks like digging and carrying heavy things. The only punch they had thrown would have been after a drunken argument in their local. Not fighting men or special forces. One of them was walking a little white dog on a lead. Richard (of RBB) moved on. He was in favour of LGBQT even if the Catholic church wasn't.

He could hear someone practising a violin. He could see a young man. He obviously felt good about his playing because there was an open glass door and he was standing out on his wooden deck. He was using the long bow technique that Sue and Robert had talked about. They knew their stuff. That was for damned sure.

He was playing an Elvis Costello song. 'God Give Me strength'. Richard could identify with that. The violin player seemed to be playing the melody over and over. It sounded nice enough but Richard (of RBB) wondered where he was taking it. Probably didn't know the chord progression or how to play over it. Maybe Sue could help.

After a while he stepped into some dog shit. Damned little dog he thought. He turned into his grove. Home again. He'd take a few minutes to cool down and then it would be double bass time. Pizzicato today. Not the kind you ate. Dammit. He was hungry. He also wanted a coffee - espresso, double, no peel, no cube, foam cup, no china but remembered that he only had Nescafe instant in the kitchen

 He'd refingered the riff from 'Itchy Feet' and would try to record a shortened version of the piece later in the day. For him recording was always a bit touch and go but, as a guy named Reacher had often said:

Hope for the best, plan for the worst.

Never forgive, never forget. Do it once and do it right. You reap what you sow. Plans go to hell as soon as the first shot is fired. Protect and serve. Never off duty.

I’m a man with a rule. People leave me alone, I leave them alone. If they don’t, I don’t.

I’m not afraid of death. Death’s afraid of me.”

I’m not a vagrant. I’m a hobo. Big difference.

He had fallen out of the ugly tree, and hit every branch.

I don’t care about the little guy. I just hate the big guy. I hate big smug people who think they can get away with things.

I was in the machine. My whole life. Then the machine coughed and spat me out. So I thought, OK, if I’m out, I’m out. All the way out. I was a little angry and it was probably an immature reaction. But I got used to it.

A handgun at two hundred feet is the same thing as crossing your fingers and making a wish.

I don’t want to put the world to rights… I just don’t like people who put the world to wrongs.

Slippery slope. I carry a spare shirt, pretty soon I’m carrying spare pants. Then I’d need a suitcase. Next thing I know, I’ve got a house and a car and a savings plan and I’m filling out all kinds of forms.

..................... etc.

* With thanks to those great writers Richard (of RBB) and Lee Child. from whom this writer has 'borrowed' one or two items.