Story by Merv (in the third person)

Emmjay sat in the far corner of the front bar.  It was quiet.  The only thing that gave away that the pub was open … was Emmjay over in the corner and Merv quietly dirtying some glass canoes with a rag that looked like it was worn by one of the Pharaohs – but greasier.

He had the look of world-weariness that only his mates in force, could put a dent in.  In front of him was a crumpled piece of paper.  Emmjay’s eyes closed, and he nodded off into some kind of reverie.  Spotting the crumpled piece of paper and hearing Emmjay’s  muffled snoring, Merv soft-shoed his way over and soundlessly withdrew the piece of paper.  Taking it back to the bar, Merv poured himself a glass canoe of trotter’s ale *, adjusted his pince-nez, sipped from the glass and read the following:

Dear Patrons of the Pig’s Arms. This letter is to beg forgiveness for Emmjay’s protracted absence from the pub. 

He has had some rather pressing issues to deal with in the last six months including getting the sack from a highly paid job with a fucking insurance company, to being offered three new jobs in the one week (which to pick ?).  He ultimately chose a part-time job for a research-based wing of a not-for-profit disabilities organisation – and then, because the pay was pretty low, he took on another job part-time testing a web portal.  The problem that he then faced was that the not-for-profit organisation did not pay enough to cover the mortgage – and the web portal testing demanded a full-time tester, so Emmjay got the flick from that as well.

Emmjay’s been having a bit of a struggle with his ADHD, and I have to say that his morale has been a bit down and he clearly wasn’t able to fit in visiting the pub.  He has been coming home from work so exhausted that he typically goes to sleep in front of the TV after dinner – and then wakes up four or five times in the night.  This tiredness stuffs up his next day at work.

Merv was starting to get the picture.  He took the only obvious option – another pull on his Trotter’s Ale. Merv continued reading.

Mr Merv, Emmjay’s not been feeling like writing much and his sense of humour is hiding under one of the blankets on his bed.  He was clearly elated by Labor’s big win, but equally depressed by what he sees as Russian Hordes raping, pillaging and slaughtering Ukrainians.  And the flattened and burnt apartment towers really upset him so he’s stopped watching the News again.

Just to make sure that the universe has piled on sufficient shit, he came down with Covid-19 yesterday and faces a week isolating in Tim the Cabin Boy’s eerie.  Fortunately , he’s vaccinated up to the eyeballs, Mr Merv and he says it’s not too bad – just like a rather large cold.

His partner FM has been putting a lot of support into our boy and her kindness knows no boundary.  I know he’d be stuffed without her.

Anyway, Mr Merv, FM and I will be encouraging Emmjay to just start writing a little bit every day – and hope that he comes good and returns to the Pig’s Arms post haste.

With our very best regards,

Mrs Jay.

Merv took another pull on his Trotter’s, smiled and reached for the phone…

*   For readers concerned about Merv’s health, it wasn’t one of the glasses Merv had befouled previously.