It was a sedentary afternoon. One could almost think it the dog-days of summer were it not for the general dampness of the ground and the casual demeanor of a shopkeeper with no major holiday on the horizon.*
“One could almost believe it to be summer, Jasfoup,” Harold said as it put down a glass of lemonade on the footstool that served as a table in
“It is summer, old chap.” Jasfoup opened his eyes and rearranged the blanket over his knees. “Look at the rain clouds coming in.”
Harold nodded. “Another five minutes and it’ll be pouring. We’ll all have to crowd into mother’s sitting room and watch the film on BBC2.”
Jasfoup yawned and closed his eyes. “Another five minutes, then.”
* Though Harold had made a killing on the upcoming ‘Father’s Day’ by repackaging all the old bibles with the premise that an offspring’s guilt might be assuaged by honouring two fathers at once.**
**Even better was the unintended result that it almost put the local Christian book shop out of business.