Tiger, Tiger (My Once Upon A Deadline story)

Part 4: confused at the library

Right, well, what a lovely place to start in! Book and Kitchen, jut a month old and beautifully styled with delicious coffee! I think I might have got the bet ‘first spot’, although equally it might have been nice to come here at the end of the day for a relaxing type up! Perhaps I still will… Anyway, here goes…

The first thing I see when I come to England was this sign. It was the first thing I read. It said,

‘Russell Henderson 1924 Musician and Pioneering Pan Artist’.

‘What the fuck is a pan artist?’ Tiger said.

‘I dunno,’ I said, imagining something with frying pans and meat in it, like really good bacon.

The second thing I read was another sign, it said, ‘Total Bitch Club’, with a sign over it like on twitter, like #

Disclaimer: I thought I should write the disclaimer at this point. Because I’m British, and therefore I apologise for everything and anything, even if I haven’t done it, have not yet done it, didn’t do it, or you did it. Don’t worry about your own culpability – Abby is going to apologise anyway. Anyway, the disclaimer is this: I’m going to write whatever comes into my head, and we’ll work out together whether it’s a good idea to make this the #onceuponadeadline story or not. I’m already having doubts about this kid not coming from England, because I’m English and I’m a bit worried people might think I’m writing it wrong. Maybe s/he should come from the North of England, a bit near where I’m from.

The first thing I see when I come to London was this sign. It was the first thing I read. It said,

‘Russell Henderson 1924 Musician and Pioneering Pan Artist’.

‘What the fuck is a pan artist?’ Tiger said.

‘I dunno,’ I said, imagining something with frying pans and meat in it, like really good bacon.

The second thing I read was another sign, it said, ‘Total Bitch Club’, with a sign over it like on twitter, like #

We walked down this street that looked like it was out of Harry Potter.

‘Look at that shop,’ said Tiger.

It said ‘Book and Kitchen’.

‘I bet that’s well posh inside.’

‘Yeah,’ I said in a small voice.

‘Let’s go in!’

‘No, Tiger!’ I reached out for him but he’d already hopped off. He was like that. Bouncy and unpredictable. I sometimes called him Tigger, but only very quietly and when he was in the right mood. The thing about Tiger was that he was always full of beans. Most of the time that was wicked and fun. Everybody gets a bit sad sometimes though. Tiger never slumped like most people, he just got mean and yelling and slapping things, like kitchen cupboards and people and stuff.

Inside the shop it looked like where someone rich would live, like an old lady who was still actually really good-looking in a way, and always sat up straight and drank tea and wrote things next to her thin glass window with the white lines across it. It looked like the kind of place you sometimes see in those films set in Notting Hill.

‘Are we in Notting Hill?’ I said.

‘Don’t be thick,’ said Tiger.

‘Yeah but are we?’

Tiger shrugged and grinned at me to tell me that he didn’t know. Suddenly we were in that bubble again, just the two of us, with all the camaraderie and the greatness and the knowing what each other is thinking and thinking the same thing at the same time. We stood there looking at each other, with our eyes all crinkled up at the corners.