No Money for Old Rope.

A new story today. It's part of a Trilogy about Frank, a working class man, Its a social realistic comment of the lower classes of today. People underestimate the lower classes, they don't know how hard it can be. It's not all Coronation Street and Pot Noodle dinners. When I was at Art College I had to live in a house share, it was like being poor and I finally got to understand what it might be like to be homeless. I've drawn from these experiences to create a story that is as harsh as it is real. Be prepared to be woken from your middle class slumber.

No Money for Old Rope.
Part One: The misery of work.

Pins and Needles in his eyes.
‘Pins and Needles in my eyes?’ Frank shook his sleepy head. ‘I must have fallen asleep on my eye -balls’.
He rubbed his face, the numbness ebbed away and the pins and needles disappeared. He roared a yawn, beckoning the sleeplessness out from his mouth. He looked at the clock, four hours sleep, not bad. Flicking on the radio he caught the end of a song he liked.
‘Damn.’ He whispered ‘I like this song and would have liked to have heard the whole thing’ He started to sing along.

I’m a man not a boy, I’m a man not a boy.
I’m a man not a boy, I’m a man not a boy.
I’m a man not a boy, I’m a man not a boy.

He carried on singing.

I’m a man not a boy, I’m a man not a boy.

He thought the song had ended and stopped singing, but he was mistaken.

I’m a man not a boy, I’m a man not a boy.

The song ended for real. Frank had enjoyed singing, always did, he was like that.
‘I should pull over and get some coffee, wake my-self up a bit.’ He pulled the giant, heavy articulated lorry over to the side of the road and climbed down to the pavement. He walked towards the nearest Café Nero. Somehow Frank knew that everything would be O.K from now on. Or would it? Properly it would he thought to him-self. But too soon? No.

Watch out for Part 2 coming soon.